EAGLE  SERIES  No.lO91 


(Jemldine  Fleming 


UC-NRLF 


POPULAR  COPYRIGHTS 

New  Eagle  Series 

PRICE,  FIFTEEN  CENTS 

Carefully  Selected  Love  Stories 
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There  is  such  a  profusion  of  good  books  in  this  list,  that  it 
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the  complete  works  of  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldpn,  Charles  Garvice, 
Mrs.  Harriet  Lewis,  May  Agnes  Fleming,  Wenona  Gilman;  Mrs. 
Alex  McVeigh  Miller,  and  other  writers  of  the  same  type,  is 
worthy  of  your  attention,  especially  when  the  price  has  been 
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i     These  books  range  from  256  to  320  pages.    They  are  printed 
[from  good  type,  and  are  readable  from  start  to  finish. 

If  you  are  looking  for  clean-cut,  honest  value,  then  we  state 
Jtaost  emphatically  that  you  will  find  it  in  this  line. 

ALL  TITLES  ALWAYS  IN  PRINT 

X — Queen  Bess By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

2 — Ruby's  Reward  By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

7 — Two   Keys    By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

9 — The  Virginia  Heiress By  May  Agnes  Fleming 

12 — Edrie's  Legacy   By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

17 — Leslies  Loyalty  By  Charles  Garvice 

(His  Love  So  True) 

22 — Elaine By  Charles  Garvice 

24 — A    Wasted    Love .By  Charles  Garvice 

.  (On  Love's  Altar) 

41 — Her   Heart's    Desire By  Charles  Garvice 

(An  Innocent  Girl) 

44— That  Dowdy   By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

50— -Her  Ransom    By  Charles  Garvice 

(Paid  For) 

55— Thrice    Wedded    By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

66— Witch   Hazel   By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

70 — Sydney By  Charles  Garvice 

(A  Wilful  Young  Woman) 

73 — The  Marquis   By  Charles  Garvice 

77 — Tina    By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

79— Out  of  the  Past By  Charles  Garvice 

(Marjorie) 

84 — Imogene By  Charles  Garvice 

(Dumaresq's-  Temptation) 


NEW  EAGLE  SERIES. 


85 — Lorrie;  or,  Hollow  Gold By  Charles  Garvice 

88 — Virgie's  Inheritance .By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

95— A  Wilful  Maid  ...~.~.......By  Charles  Garvice 

(Philippa) 
£&— Claire .......By  Charles  Garvice 

(The  Mistress  of  Court  Regna) 

99— Audrey's  Recompense   By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

102 — Sweet  Cymbeline  .......... ............By  Charles  Garvice 

(Bellmaire) 
io$H-Signa's  Sweetheart  .*... ..By  Charles  G^vice 

(Lord  Delamere's  Bride) 

Hi— Faithful  Shirley .By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

117 — She  Loved  Him By  Charles  Garvice 

119— 'Twixt  Smile  and  Tear By  Charles , Garvice 

(Dulcie) 

222 — Grazia's  Mistake   ......By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

130— A  Passion  Flower By  Charles  Garvice 

(Madge) 

133— Max . By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

136 — The  Unseen  Bridegroom. By  May  Agnes  Fleming 

138— A  Fatal  Wooing By  Laura  Jean  Libbey 

141 — Lady  Evelyn  By  May  Agnes  Fleming 

144 — Dorothy's  Jewels   By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

146— Magdalen's  Vow  By  May  Agnes  Fleming 

151 — The  Heiress  of  Glen  Gower By  May  Agnes  Fleming 

155 — Nameless   Dell , By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

157 — Who   Wins By  May  Agnes  Fleming 

166— The  Masked  Bridal   By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

168— Thrice  Lost,  Thrice  Won  By  May  Agnes  Fleming 

174 — His  Guardian  Angel By  Charles  Garvice 

177 — A  True  Aristocrat  By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

181 — The  Baronet's  Bride By  May  Agnes  Fleming 

188 — Dorothy  Arnold's  Escape  .......By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

199 — Geoffrey's  Victory  f ......By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

203— Only  One  Love.  .T. By  Charles  Garvice 

aio— Wild  Oats .By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

213 — The  Heiress  of  Egremont By  Mrs.  Harriet  Lewis 

215— Only  a  Girl's  Love By  Charles  Garvice 

219— Lost :  A  Pearle By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

222— The  Lily  of  Mordaunt By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

223— Leola  Dale's  Fortune  By  Charles  Garvice 

231— The  Earl's  Heir By  Charles  Garvice 

(Lady  Norah) 

233—- -Nora  .*.-... By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldon 

236— Her  Humble  Lover By  Charles  Garvke 

(The  Usurper;  or,  The  Gipsy  Peer) 
242— A  Wounded  Heart  By  Charles  Garvicc 

(Sweet  as  a  Rose) 
344— A  Hoiden's  Conquest -.^.....By  Mrs.  Georgie  Sheldoa 


Love   at  the   Loom; 


OR, 


HER  GALLANT  SWEETHEART 


BY 

GERALDINE  FLEMING 

AUTHOR  OF 

"Hearts  of  Stone,"  "The  Curse  of  Beauty/1  etc. 


STREET   &   SMITH    CORPORATION 

PUBLISHERS 

79-89  Seventh  Avenue,  New  York 


1895 
*By  N.  L.  MTJNRO 


at  tiie  Loom 


(Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America) 


LOVE  AT  THE  LOOM. 


CHAPTER  i. 

A  STRANGE  WAGER. 

"Come,  Donald!" 

"Papa,  he  doesn't  wish  to  go.  Tell  papa  so,  Mr. 
Irwin." 

Beautiful  Mildred  Selden's  haughty  face  was 
wreathed  in  seductive  smiles. 

She  loved  Donald  Irwin  with  all  the  passion  of 
her  ungoverned  nature,  and  she  hoped  to  see  an  an- 
swering love  light  in  his  brown  eyes  ere  he  returned 
again  to  his  Southern  estate. 

Donald  smiled  as  he  gazed  on  the  queenly  form 
and  proud,  beautiful  face,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that 
his  heart  was  nearer  throbbing  with  love  than  it  ever 
before  had  been. 

"Tell  the  truth,  Donald !"  laughed  Mr.  Selden  good- 
naturedly.  "Will  you  go  with  me  to  see  my  whirring1 
machinery?  Or  will  you  remain  here  to  idly  bask  in, 
the  smiles  of  beauty?" 

Donald  bowed  low  to  the  pouting  beauty,   and  ife 

,  970374 


6  A  Strange  Wager. 

seemed  to  her  that  there  was  a  flattering  something  in 
his  lingering  gaze. 

"If  I  consulted  only  my  inclination,"  he  said  in  a 
low  tone,  as  his  eyes  chvelt  admiringly  on  the  young 
woman,  "I  would  remain  with  Miss  Mildred." 

"Pshaw!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Selden,  "you  can  see  her 
this  afternoon.  You  are  going  to  ride  together.  Then 
the  theatre  this  evening.  Come  with  me  now.  Be  a 
good  girl,  Mildred,  and  give  him  up  to  me  for  this 
morning.  I  want  him  to  see  the  factory." 

Mildred's  black  eyes  flashed  an  inquiring  look  into 
the  brown  ones  of  the  Southerner,  and  then  a  smik 
softened  her  beautiful  face. 

"Is  the  decision  with  me,  Mr.  Irwin,"  she  asked 
archly. 

"It  is  with  you,"  he  replied. 

"Then  go,  and  return  soon.  Only  don't  fall  in 
love  with  any  of  the  factory  girls." 

There  was  a  ring  of  scornful  mirth  in  the  last  re- 
mark that  showed  how  much  beneath  her  she  deemed 
the  workers  in  her  father's  factory. 

"The  memory  of  your  fate  would  be  a  certain 
safeguard  against  such  a  misfortune,"  he  answered, 
the  tone  of  his  voice  conveying  flattery  to  her  while 
the  haughty  uplifting  of  his  head  indicated  that  he 
held  such  creatures  as  factory  girls  as  entirely  out 
of  his  world. 


A  Strange  Wager.  7 

"All  very  well/'  exclaimed  blunt  Charles  Selden. 
"Donald  Irwin  does  not  need  to  look  for  a  wife  in 
a  factory;  but  I  can  tell  you  that  any  man  might 
easily  lose  his  heart  to  some  of  them  who  work  at  the 
looms/' 

"How  can  you  talk  so,  papa?"  was  Mildred's  scorn- 
ful exclamation. 

"It  is  the  truth,"  was  the  sturdy  response.  "Why, 
we  have  a  girl  who  has  just  come  to  us,  who  is  cer- 
tainly the  most  exquisitely  beautiful  creature  I  ever 
set  eyes  oh." 

Donald  looked  full  into  the  eyes  of  Mildred  as  he 
said  with  a  meaning  smile: 

"Perhaps  you  have  never  looked  where  I  have/' 

Mr.  Selden  clapped  the  young  man  on  the  shoulder 
in  a  friendly  way,  for  it  was  his  wish  that  his  daugh- 
ter should  wed  the  rich  and  aristocratic  Southerner. 

"Oh/'  he  said,  "I.  do  not  pretend  to  see  with  your 
eyes.     The  girl  I  speak  of  is  not  a  proud,  queenly] 
beauty  like  my  Mildred,  but  she  is  as  winsome  and  be-  I 
witching  a  girl  as  ever  was  seen." 

"Papa!  papa!"  laughed  Mildred,  a  sort  of  sneer  in 
her  voice,  "are  you  going  to  bring  me  home  a  new? 
mama?  Think  of  taking  a  beauty  from  the  loom  to 
bring  here!" 

A  merry  peal  of  scornful  laughter  rippled  from  hep 
red  lips.  Mr.  Selden  laughed,  too. 


8  A  Strange  Wager. 

"Not  much  danger  of  that,  Mildred.  I  don't  think 
much  of  these  December  and  May  marriages ;  nor  did 
good  ever  come  of  wedding  out  of  one's  station;  but 
it  did  occur  to  me  when  I  looked  at  the  violet-eyed  x 
little  beauty  yesterday  that  I  would  like  to  see  how 
she  would  look  in  silk." 

"She  would  probably  look  like  a  guy,"  said  Donald. 
"No  doubt  she  is  a  round,  rosy-cheeked  beauty  of  the 
plebeian  type,  who  looks  her  best  in  calico.  It  wouldi 
be  a  sin  to  lift  her  above  her  station." 

"I  don't  think,"  murmured  Mildred,  "that  Mr.  Irwin 
is  in  any  danger  of  falling  in  love  with  your  factory 
beauty." 

"I  am  an  Irwin,"  Donald  said  with  a  haughty  toss 
of  his  handsome  head,  "and  there  never  has  been  one 
of  all  the  line  who  brought  shame  on  his  ancestry  by 
wedding  beneath  him." 

"That  is  right,"  acquiesced  Mr.  Selden;  "but  all  the 
more  reason  why  you  should  see  my  pretty  Goldie 
Mowbray,  with  her  violet  eyes  and  sunny  curls." 

Donald  laughed  as  he  exchanged  glances  with  Mil- 
dred. 

"You  have  told  us  of  her  eyes  and  of  her  hair, 
Mr.  Selden.  Can  you  not  complete  the  description?" 

Neither  of  them  noticed  a  faint  flush  on  the  elder's 
cheek  as  he  replied  warmly : 


A  Strange  Wager.  9 

"lean  and  will;  and  when  you   return  you  shall 
tell  Mildred  if  I  am  right  or  wrong.     Goldie  is  about  j 
middle  height,   and   is  just   past   her   sixteenth   year.  \ 
She  has  an  exquisitely  rounded  form  of  perfect  pro-  ; 
portion.     Under  her  crown  of  golden  curls  is  a  low, 
broad,  white  brow^Jrom  beneath  which  glow  the  lu- 
minous eyes  of  dark  violet,  so  soft  and  melting  with 
tenderness,  love  and  witchery,  that  it  is  hard  to  get 
beyond   them   to   see   the  pink  cheeks,   the   laughing 
cherry  lips,  and  the  rounded,  dimpled  chin." 

''Oh,  papa!"  laughed  Mildred  with  curling  lip, 
"you  have  taken  the  description  from  some  love  story. 
Mr.  Irwin,  I  beg  of  you  to  watch  papa  closely  when 
you  are  near  this  paragon  of  the  loom/' 

''But  her  voice?"  laughed  Donald.  "What  of  her 
voice?  To  me  the  voice  is  the  telltale  of  the  whole 
nature.  Tell  me  hers  is  silvery  and  flute-like,  musical 
with  soft  inflections,  and  I  will  admit  that  you  have 
found  a  wonder.  What  about  the  voice  of  your  beauty, 
Mr.  Selden?" 

The  latter  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  laughed. 

"I  must  confess  that  I  have  never  heard  it,"  he 
answered. 

"Come,  then,"  cried  Donald,  "I  will  wager  you 
a  box  of  the  best  cigars  that  can  be  bought  that  your 
plebeian  beauty  has  a  coarse,  rough  voice*  and  that 
she  murders  the  English  language." 


lo  A  Strange  Wager. 

"Bet,  papa!"  laughed  Mildred.  "You  must  bet  of 
acknowledge  yourself  a  romancer  at  once/' 

"I  will  take  the  bet,  and  I  will  let  Donald  be  the 
judge." 

"Done!"  said  Donald;  "and  this  very  morning  I 
shall  interview  the  beauty  at  her  loom." 

"For  my  part,"  added  Mildred  with  a  proud  up- 
lifting of  her  queenly  head,  "I  would  like  to  try  the 
experiment  of  putting  her  in  a  silk  gown,  and  making 
her  enter  a  brilliant  drawing-room  full  of  people." 

"Would  you!"  cried  her  father,  with  an  odd  ex- 
pression in  his  eyes;  "then  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will 
do.  I  will  wager  you  that  diamond  necklace  you 
wanted  against  a  kiss  that  Goldie  will  pass  through 
the  ordeal  successfully.  What  do  you  say?". 

"I  say  I  will  take  the  bet,"  cried  Mildred  with 
flashing  eyes. 

She  had  longed  for  the  necklace  for  a  month,  and 
the  fear  of  losing  never  troubled  her. 

"Will  it  not  be  carrying  the  thing  too  far?"  asked 
Donald  seriously.  "It  will  be  hard  on  the  poor  girl 
to  go  back  to  the  loom  after  a  taste  of  luxury  such 
as  will  be  inevitable." 

A  sneer  curled  Mildred's  lip. 

"You  are  too  considerate,  Mr.  Irwin.  You  don't 
know  these  girls.  Any  of  them  would  give  the  eyes 


A  Strange  Wager.  II 

out  of  her  head  for  the  privilege  of  once  appearing 
in  our  drawing-room.  It  is  a  bet,  papa." 

"You  are  sure  of  what  you  are  doing?"  queried1 
Donald  in  a  troubled  tone. 

His  education  had  been  such  that  he  felt  himself 
far  above  a  working  girl;  but  he  was  a  gentleman  to 
the  core,  and  could  not  bear  to  do  an  unchivalrous  act. 

"It  will  be  all  right,"  answered  Mr.  Selden  con- 
fidently. "I  cannot  lose  both  bets.  As  for  little 
Goldie,  I  can  satisfy  your  scruples  by  promising  to 
give  her  an  easier  position  in  the  factory.  Come 
now!" 

Donald  put  on  his  coat  and  held  out  his  hand  to 
Mildred  in  the  old-fashioned,  courtly  way  that  gave 
him  such  a  distinguished  manner. 

He  held  her  hand  a  trifle  longer  than  was  neces- 
sary, too,  and  there  was  an  exchange  of  glances  that 
set  her  heart  throbbing  as  it  had  never  done  before. 

And  through  her  soul  ran  quivering  the  ecstatic 
consciousness  of  a  thoroughly  awakened  passion. 

The  long,  black  lashes  drooped  over  the  velvety 
eyes,  and  veiled  them;  but  Donald  knew  that  if  he 
would  win  the  proud  beauty  for  his  wife,  he  had  but 
to  ask. 

And  if  he  did  not  love  as  ardently  as  she,  at  least 
he  admired  her  and  believed  he  loved  her  enough. 


12  A  Strange  Wager. 

"I  will  ask  her  this  afternoon  to  be  the  mistress  of 
Forestmere  Hall/'  he  murmured  to  himself. 

"Au  revoir,  Miss  Mildred !"  he  said  aloud. 

"Au  revoir!"  she  responded  in  a  voice  that  faltered 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life. 

The  door  closed  behind  him,  and,  with  a  start,  she 
glided  to  the  window  and  from  behind  the  lace  cur- 
tains watched  him  as  he  crossed  the  sidewalk  and 
stepped  into  the  waiting  carriage. 

"So  debonair!  so  aristocratic!  so  handsome!  and 
he  loves  me!  He  loves  me  and  I — I  worship  him 
with  all  the  strength  of  my  soul.  I  had  thought  I 
loved  him,  but  how  much  I  did  not  guess  until  he 
waked  my  slumbering  passion  by  the  magic  pressure 
of  his  hand. 

"Donald,  my  love !  come  back  to  me  soon  !*' 


CHAPTER  II. 

"OH,    HOW    I    SHALL    LOVE    HIM!" 

Who  can  say  what  will  happen  to  one  in  the  space 
of  one  short  hour  ?  What  maiden  heart,  fancy  free  at 
this  moment,  can  be  sure  that  it  will  not  be  enthralled 
in  love's  bondage  the  next? 

That  morning,  before  luxurious  Mildred  had  even 
opened  her  scornful  black  eyes,  the  girls  in  her  father's 
great  factory  had  assembled  in  the  monster  building, 
waiting  for  the  steam  whistle  to  scream  out  the  signal 
to  work. 

And  a  merry,  happy  lot  of  girls  they  were,  thougK 
many  of  them  had  ajl  they  could  do  to  keep  their 
poor  gowns  patched  in  any  semblance  of  being  whole. 

"Love!"  cried  one.  "It  is  a  thing  I  know  nothing 
about;  so  don't  ask  me.  Ask  Clara." 

"That's  so;  Clara!  I  say,  Clara!  how  does  it  feel 
to  be  in  love?" 

"How  should  I  know?"  was  the  blushing  response. 

"How  should  she  know!  Girls!  she  wants  us  to 
believe  that  she  doesn't  walk  home  every  night  with 
handsome  Harry  Grey,  foreman  of  the  second  floor. 
Come,  Clara!  be  a  nice  girl  and  tell  us  how  it  feels 
to  be  in  love." 


I4          "Oh,  How  I  Shall  Love  Him!" 

"As  if  you  didn't  know/'  retorted  Clara,  her  cheeks 
rosy.  "Gertie  has  had  twice  as  many  beaus  as  ever 
I  had,  girls.  She  can  tell  you  more  about  love  than  I 
can.  Don't  you  remember  Tom  Mason,  and  how  she 
made  him  dance  after  her  until  he  had  almost  lost  his 
senses?" 

"That's  so,  Gertie.  You  tell  us  how  it  feels  to  be 
in  love,"  cried  a  laughing  chorus  of  girls. 

"I'd  rather  tell  you  something  none  of  you  knows," 
was  the  retort;  "anyhow  it's  indescribable." 

"It's  great  fun,  is  all  I  can  say,"  murmured  a  dark- 
eyed  little  coquette. 

"Fun!  yes,"  chimed  in  Clara;  "but  the  best  fun  is 
in  watching  the  fellows.  They  think  you  take  every 
word  in  earnest." 

"A  man  in  love  is  such  a  fool!"  said  Gertie  with  an 
air  of  knowledge. 

The  other  girls  laughed. 

"You  don't  think  so  if  you  love  him,"  came  from 
Gertie  quickly. 

"Oh!  you're  both  silly,  then,"  laughed  Clara, 

"I  don't  think  love  is  a  bit  silly,"  asserted  Gertie 
bravely.  "I  leave  it  to  Goldie  Mowbray  there.  I'm 
sure  that  if  any  girl  ever  had  lots  of  lovers  she's  the 
one." 

Every  eye  on  the  instant  was  turned  on  the  flushed 
face  of  the  girl,  whose  wonderful  violet  eyes  had  been 


44 Oh,  How  I  Shall  Love  Him!"          15 

wandering  wonderingly  from  face  to  face  during  the 
discussion. 

She  started  at  finding  herself  the  object  of  scrutiny, 
and  the  compliment  on  her  beauty  implied  in  Gertie's 
words  confused  her  for  a  moment. 

Then  a  sweet,  shy  smile  wreathed  her  coral  lips, 
and  into  her  eyes  leaped  an  earnestness  as  tender  as 
it  was  true. 

"I  never  was  in  love,"  she  said  simply. 

The  girls  did  not  laugh.  Somehow  it  seemed  as 
if  her  way  of  speaking  of  it  had  made  the  subject 
.  sacred.  They  crowded  about  her  and  Gertie  mur- 
mured : 

"Ah!  you  may  never  have  been  in  love,  but  as  sure 
as  the  sun  shines  you  have  had  scores  of  lovers.  One 
cannot  be  so  beautiful  and  be  unsought.  Have  you 
not  had  lovers?" 

"Yes;  but  never,  never  lured  them  on.  I  could  not 
do  that" 

"Have  you  never  loved  any  man  a  tiny  bit  ?"  asked 
Clara  wonderingly.  "Why,  there  have  been  lots  of 
times  when  for  a  little  while  I  thought  I  was  going  to 
be  in  love." 

"I  have  liked  men,"  Goldie  answered  earnestly;  "but 
I  never  loved  anyone.  Sometimes  I  think  I  never  shall 
fall  in  love." 


16         "Oh,  How  I  Shall  Love  Him!" 

"Every  heart  has  its  mate/'  one  of  the  girls  ven- 
tured. 

"That  may  be,  but  it  seems  as  if  mine  would  never 
come.  I  think  love  is  so  sweet  and  good  to  think  of 
that  it  must  be  like  heaven  in  reality." 

"Do  you  think  a  girl  can  be  sure  when  she  meets 
her  love?"  whispered  one  of  the  girls  nearest  her. 

"How  can  I  answer  when  I  have  never  met  my 
love?  I  only  know  that  it  seems  to  me  as  if  my  heart 
would  leap  from  my  breast  the  instant  my  eyes  fell 
on  the  face  of  him  who  is  to  be  my  love.  Ah;  I  never 
have  loved;  but  I  know  that  when  my  time  comes,  I 
shall  give  my  whole  soul,  my  every  thought,  my  veryj 
life  to  him." 

Her  violet  eyes  were  luminous  now ;  her  bosom  was 
heaving,  and  through  her  moist  red  lips  the  words 
came  as  if  borne  on  sweet,  sighing  zephyrs. 

"Her  love  will  be  a  very  passion  of  life,"  murmured 
Gertie  to  Clara.  "It  will  be  more  terrible  than  death, 
to  her  if  she  be  not  foved  in  return.  But,  oh!  who 
could  help  worshiping  such  a  wondrous,  bewitching* 
beauty  as  hers?  If  I  were  a  man  I  should  go  mad 
over  her." 

"Suppose,"  asked  Clara,  uttering  aloud  the  words 
of  her  friend,  "you  were  to  love  one  who  could  not 
love  you?" 

Those    who   looked   at   that    wondrous    face   thc^? 


"Oh,  How  I  Shall  Love  Him!"          17 

"never  forgot  the  look  of  fear  and  horror  that  crept 
into  the  violet  eyes. 

It  seemed  as  if  she  searched  each  face  there  as  with 
a  premonition  of  a  thing  that  would  surely  happen  to 
her,  and  was  making  a  response  that  was  but  a  doom. 

"I — I  could  die,"  she  whispered. 

There  was  a  prolonged  silence,  unbroken  until  one 
of  the  girls  exclaimed  with  a  shudder  she  could  not 
repress : 

"That  will  never  happen  to  you ;  you  are  too  beau- 
tiful. You  will  be  able  to  choose  your  lover/' 

The  screaming  of  the  whistle  prevented  any  further? 
conversation;  and  as  if  glad  to  break  it  off,  the  girlsi 
ran  laughing  and  talking  from  the  cloak  room,  where 
the  conversation  had  taken  place. 

Goldie  followed  more  slowly,  and  on  her  beautiful 
'face  there  was  a  troubled  expression. 

"How  came  I  to  talk  so?"  she  murmured  to  her- 
self. "Why  should  I  talk  of  love?  How  do  I  know 
what  I  shall  feel  ?  I  wonder  is  it  true  that  when  some 
important  event  in  our  lives  is  about  to  take  place 
there  is  a  premonition  of  it  within  our  hearts?" 

She  was  at  her  loom  in  time  to  see  that  it  was  going 
,with  the  others;  and  in  a  little  while  it  was  whirring, 
rattling  and  thumping  with  a  deafening  noise. 

But  she  did  not  heed  the  noise  then,  though  usually 


18         "Oh,  How  I  Shall  Love  Him!" 

•it  was  very  unpleasant  to  her.  Her  brain  was  as  busy 
as  the  loom. 

The  thought  of  that  love  which  was  to  come  to  her 
and  make  or  wreck  her  life  was  causing  her  pulses  to 
throb  almost  in  unison  with  the  thumping  machine. 

She  recalled,  too,  the  last  talk  she  had  ever  had  with 
her  poor  mother. 

Her  father  she  had  never  known.  He  had  died,  her 
mother  told  her,  before  she  was  born. 

"Goldie,  my  darling!"  the  dying  mother  had  mur- 
mured, "you  are  like  me.  Within  the  calmness  of 
your  nature  there  lies  hidden  depths  of  love  and  pas- 
sion, of  which  even  you  will  not  be  aware  until  some 
day  when  a  spark  shall  leap  out  from  the  eyes  of 
some  man  and  set  your  soul  ablaze." 

"Mother!  mother!  how  strangely  you  talk!"  Goldie 
had  sobbed,  wondering  why  such  thoughts  should 
trouble  the  brain  of  one  on  the  verge  of  the  grave. 

"Such  talk  is  strange  to  you  now,  and  will  be  until 
your  soul  is  stirred  to  its  depths,  and  you  know  the 
meaning  of  the  word  love." 

"Love,  mother!  I  shall  never  love,"  the  girl  re- 
sponded. 

"Yes,  you  will  love,  and  you  will  love  with  the  very 
frenzy  of  passion,  my  child ;  and  what  I  wish  to  warn 
you  against  is  loving  one  whose  station  in  life  is  above 
yours.  V*  '".',  poverty  there  is  honesty  and  truth.  Give 


"Oh,  How  I  Shall  Love  Him!"          19 

your  love  to  one  who  toils  for  his  living,  and  your  lot 
will  be  peaceful  and  happy.'* 

"I  will  remember,  mother." 

That  had  been  a  year  ago,  and  the  orphan  had  often 
recalled  in  wonder  and  smiling  surprise  the  strange 
words. 

j      She  was  so  beautiful  that  it  seemed  as  if  men  but 

'looked  at  her  to  love  her;  but  not  once  had  her  heart 

beat  faster  for  the  glance  of  any  mp.n's  eye. 

*      She  had  gently  but  firmly  checked  the  first  advance 

of  any  lover  toward  a  declaration ;  and  more  than  one 

honest  fellow  had  left  her  saying  her  heart  was  of  ice. 

But  to-day  she  had  been  asked  to  love  and  her  an- 
swer had  been  a  surprise  to  herself.  She  had  been 
asked  similar  questions  before,  and  had  laughed  them 
away.  Why  had  she  spoken  with  such  terrible  ear- 
nestness to-day? 

She  did  not  know.  Her  usually  glacid  nature  was 
stirred  and  troubled.  She  was  certain  of  one  thing, 
however,  and  that  was  that  her  dying  mother  had 
spoken  words  of  truth. 

"I  shall  love  him!  oh,  how  I  shall  love  him!"  she 
murmured  to  herself,  and  blushed,  though  no  eye  was 
upon  her. 

There  was  no  thought  in  her  mind  that  would  pic- 
lure  to  her  what  the  lover  was  to  be  like ;  but  there 


ao         "Oh,  How  I  Stall  Love  Him!" 

was  a  new  life  born  within  her  soul,  which  throbbed 
with  the  power  and  passion  of  love. 

So  there  she  stood  at  the  tiresome  loom,  doing  her 
work  with  sure  and  deft  fingers,  but  with  her  brain, 
pulsing  to  an  unknown  harmony,  through  which  there 
shot  strange  discords. 


CHAPTER  III. 

GOLDIE    MEETS    HER    LOVE. 

Mr.  Selden  led  Donald  Irwin  through  the  noisy 
'factory,  pointing  out  to  him  the  various  improvements 
that  he  had  instituted  in  the  machinery. 

"You  should  have  such  factories  in  the  South/'  Mr. 
Selden  said. 

Donald  answered  yes  mechanically.  His  eyes  were 
constantly  alert  to  pick  out  from  the  hundreds  of  girls 
he  saw  the  especial  one  of  whom  Mr.  Selden  had 
spoken. 

He  did  not  like  to  remind  Mildred's  father  of  the 
bet  that  had  been  made,  lest  he  should  suspect  him  of 
dwelling  too  much  on  the  thought  of  the  pretty  factory 
girl. 

But  Mr.  Selden  had  not  forgotten  Goldie.  His 
young  companion  would  have  Been  startled  had  he 
known  how  much  the  beautiful  factory  girl  was  in  the 
mind  of  the  other. 

They  went  from  floor  to  floor,  and  at  last  Mr.  Sel- 
'den  stopped  before  entering  the  door  of  one  of  the 
great  rooms. 

"Donald,"  he  said,  looking  earnestly  into  the  eyes 
of  the  other,  "you  shall  now  see  the  little  girl  of  whom 
I  spoke/' 


22  Goldie  Meets  Her  Love. 

"Ah!"  Donald  said. 

He  wondered  why  his  heart  should  throb  quicker, 
because  he  was  going  to  see  the  face  of  a  pretty  fac- 
tory girl. 

What  was- she  to  him,  that  the  thought  of  her,  when 
he  had  not  even  seen  her,  should  make  his  blood  leap 
swifter  in  his  veins? 

"Pshaw !"  he  murmured  scornfully.  "What  would 
the  haughty  Mildred  say  if  she  knew  th«t  I  went  to 
meet  a  common  factory  worker  like  a  bashful  school- 
boy? This  is  absurd." 

Very  absurd;  but  it  was  none  .the  less  true  that  the 
Southern  aristocrat,  who  had  been  presented  at  every 
royal  court  in  Europe,  suddenly  found  himself  inex- 
plicably disconcerted  at  the  thought  of  meeting  a  fac- 
tory girl. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Selden,  misconstruing  the  monosyl- 
labic response  of  his  companion,  said  uneasily : 

"My  dear  boy!  pardon  me  if  I  suggest  that  you  do 
not  treat  the  little  girl  as  if  she  were  not  as  good  as 
anybody  else.  She  is  only  a  factory  girl,  it  is  true,  but 
she  is  a  lady  in  manners." 

"Have  no  fear,  Mr.  Selden;  any  woman  is  entitled 
to  my  utmost  courtesy." 

"There  spoke  your  father!"  cried  Mr.  Selden.  "He 
was  the  truest  gentleman  I  ever  met." 

"He  has  ever  been  my  pattern,"  responded  Donald. 


Goldie  Meets  Her  Love.  33 

Mr.  Selden  opened  the  door  of  the  room,  and  stood 
at  the  entrance,  scanning  the  machines  until  with  a 
sort  of  sigh  he  murmured: 

"She  is  here." 

Donald's  eyes  had  been  running  over  the  room,  too ; 
but  they  had  seen  no  face  that  seemed  so  extremeljij 
beautiful  to  him. 

The  truth  was,  that  as  she  stood  at  her  machine, 
there  was  nothing  but  the  crown  of  her  golden  head 
visible  to  them. 

But  Mr.  Selden  knew  that  crown  of  spun  gold. 

"I  see  no  one  who  answers  to  the  description,"  Don- 
ald said  with  a  slight  smile. 

"Have  patience !  I  do  not  fear  to  show  her  to  you. 
There  can  be  but  one  opinion  of  her  face,  however 
Opinions  may  differ  as  to  her  voice/' 

"You  are  beginning  to  be  frightened,"  said  Donald. 

The  old  man  looked  into  the  face  of  the  younger 
and  smiled  composedly. 

"Donald,  I  believe  her  voice  will  prove  the  sweetest 
music  that  ever  your  ears  drank  in.  But  you  shall  not 
Kear  it  amid  the  rattle  of  the  looms.  She  shall  come 
to  the  office  wKere  there  is  quiet." 

"You  are  enthusiastic,"  was  all  Donald  said;  buft 
tfiere  was  a  curious  look  in  his  eyes  as  they  rested 
on  the  face  of  the  other. 


24  Goldie  Meets  Her  Love. 

"What  was  there  between  the  pretty  factory  girl 
and  Charles  Selden?"  he  asked  himself. 

The  girls  looked  askance  at  the  two  gentlemen  as 
they  passed  by  the  noisy  looms;  and  more  than  one 
took  a  second  look  at  the  younger,  who  bore  him- 
self so  debonairly. 

"I  wonder  if  he  is  beautiful  Mildred's  lover?"  whis- 
pered Clara  to  Gertie,  who  stood  near  her. 

"He  is  handsome  enough  for  some  girl  to  go  wild 
over/'  sighed  Gertie.  "I  suppose  he  hardly  knows  we 
live.  Ah !  it  must  be  wonderful  to  be  rich  and  have 
all  you  wish." 

Gertie  was  right  in  fancying  that  Donald  was  hardly 
aware  of  their  existence.  Something  strange  seemed 
to  hold  him  in  thrall. 

He  passed  by  each  girl,  studying  her  face  with  an 
earnest  look,  and  then  forgetting  it  as  he  scanned  the 
next. 

Suddenly  he  felt  his  arm  twitched  by  Mr.  Selden, 
and  he  could  catch  the  murmured  words  above  the 
rattle  and  din : 

"Here  she  is!" 

Like  lightning  the  eyes  of  Donald  flashed  by  one 
girl  and  another  and  came  by  a  sort  of  instinct  to 
where  Goldie  stood  by  her  loom. 

He  never  forgot  that  picture  as  long  as  he  lived^ 
and  in  the  days  to  come,  when  he  was  at  war  witk 

r  F     • 


Goldie  Meets  Her  Love.  25 

his  own  heart,  and  the  whole  world  seemed  black  and 
drear,  that  picture  would  rise  up  before  him,  and,  like 
a  sudden,  passing  flood  of  sunshine,  would  blot  out 
all  else. 

Deep  in  thought,  her  brain  revolving  the  strange 
new  thoughts  that  had  been  suddenly  born  there,  she 
stood  with  her  beautiful  head  uplifted,  her  eyes  dream- 
ily seeing  far  beyond  the  rattling  machine. 

She  was  a  vision  of  perfect  beauty,  and  as  Donald1 
gazed  he  ceased  to  hear  the  noise,  he  forgot  his  sur- 
roundings, and  Goldie  was  a  fairy  at  her  magic  loom, 
weaving  the  web  in  which  she  would  enmesh  the  vic- 
tims of  her  wondrous  beauty. 

"Is  she  beautiful?"  he  heard  whispered  in  his  ear. 

Donald  laughed  like  one  intoxicated. 

Mr.  Selden  nodded  his  head  as  if  he  understood. 

"Wait  until  you  see  her  full  face,"  he  said. 

All  this  had  passed  quickly;  but  it  seemed  to  Don- 
ald, as  he  stepped  forward  by  the  side  of  Mr.  Selden, 
that  he  had  suddenly  awakened  from  a  long  trance. 

They  stood  by  the  side  of  Goldie,  who  was  opera- 
ting her  loom  mechanically.  Donald  had  seen  the  othefi 
girls  working  their  looms,  and  had  given  the  matter 
no  thought. 

He  shuddered  as  he  saw  that  a  movement  too  slow, 
a  careless  thrust  of  the  dimpled  hand,  might  end  in> 
a  mutilated  arm,  if  no  worse. 


26  Goldie  Meets  Her  Love. 

He  held  his  breath  as  he  gazed  at  the  rounded  form, 
and  at  the  gracefully  poised  head,  with  its  coronet  of 
golden  curls. 

A  shiver  seemed  to  run  over  Goldie,  and  she  turned 
her  head,  as  if  suddenly  conscious  of  the  presence  of 
some  one. 

Her  eyes  saw  Mr.  Selden  first,  and  then  wandered 
to  the  face  of  Donald.  It  was  on  his  face  that  they 
d;  but  she  saw  him  from  head  to  foot. 

Then  her  eyes  met  his.  There  was  a  flashing  look 
between  the  violet  and  the  brown,  and  the  color  faded 
from  the  round  cheeks. 

All  the  blood  of  her  body  seemed  to  have  leaped  tc 
her  heart,  so  that  it  was  beating  and  throbbing  like  a 
wild  bird  in  the  hands  of  its  captor. 

Donald  stood  like  one  who  sees  beyond  this  life. 
Her  beauty  was  marvelous,  but  it  was  not  that  which 
enchained  his  senses.  It  was  something  else. 

His  soul  seemed  to  be  rejoicing  as  if  it  had  met 
and  known  the  very  glory  of  life.  Donald  gasped  for 
breath. 

They  might  have  stood  thus  forever,  staring  at  each 
other,  unconscious  of  the  world ;  but  the  terrible  ma- 
chinery stayed  its  movements  for  nothing.  The  little 
hand  wandered  in  the  way,  was  caught  and 

It   would   have  been  death   but  that   Donald   wad 


Goldie  Meets  Her  Love.  27 

quicker  than  the  machine;  and  his  strength  then  was 
that  of  Samson. 

The  deadly  machine  was  broken,  and  Goldie  Mow- 
bray  lay  in  the  arms  of  her  rescuer,  her  eyes  drinking 
in  all  that  his  eyes  unconsciously  told  her. 

She  had  met  her  love  at  last.  She  knew  it,  and 
her  heart  was  throbbing  wildly.  The  future  was  be- 
yond her  reading. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

9  .  . 

A    COLD    PROPOSAL. 

In  an  instant  the  room  was  in  an  uproar,  but  that 
was  quelled  by  the  foreman. 

"Follow  me,"  Mr.  Selden  said  with  pallid  lijrs. 

Goldie  could  have  walked,  but  ere  she  could  attempt 
to  do  so,  she  was  clasped  close  to  Donald's  breast,  and 
he  carried  her  to  a  little  room  away  from  the  noise. 

"Are  you  injured,  Goldie  ?"  murmured  Mr.  Selden. 

She  looked  at  him  for  an  instant,  then  turned  her 
eyes  to  Donald's  face,  and  slipped  from  his  grasp  to 
her  feet. 

"Thank  you,  sir!  I  am  not  injured  at  all.  And, 
oh,  sir !"  addressing  Donald,  with  downcast  eyes,  "you 
saved  my  life." 

It  was  as  Mr.  Selden  had  said — Goldie's  voice  was 
the  sweetest  music  that  had  ever  thrilled  his  ears. 

"If  I  had  not  stood  there  looking  at  you,  nothing 
jvould  have  happened,"  Donald  answered. 

"I  felt  your  eyes,"  Goldie  murmured,  almost  as 
if  talking  to  herself. 

There  was  a  passionate  wish  in  the  heart  of  Donald 
Jrwin  that  Mr.  Selden  would  leave  them  alone  for  a 
moment. 


A  Cold  Proposal.  29 

"Could  you  not  procure  her  a  glass  of  water  ?"  he 
asked. 

Mr.  Selden  took  his  eyes  from  the  beautiful  face 
with  a  start. 

"Yes;  of  course." 

He  left  them  alone,  and  there  was  silence  between 
them.  Now  that  he  was  able  to  speak  what  should 
he  say?  Why  did  not  she  speak? 

They  stared  at  each  other  like  two  dumb,  frightened 
animals.  Donald  saw  Mr.  Selden  approaching. 

"Goldie,"  he  stammered,  "I  shall  be  waiting  to  see 
you  this  evening  when  you  go  home.  You  will  not 
deny  me  ?" 

"Oh,  no!    I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you,  sir." 

She  took  the  glass  of  water  from  Donald's  hand, 
and  drank  some  because  he  seemed  to  wish  it. 

It  annoyed  Donald  to  have  Mr.  Selden  Jcee'p'liis 
eyes  fastened  on  Goldie's  face.  What  had  that  old 
man  to  do  with  such  as  she? 

"Let  us  go,"  he  said  abruptly.  "She  is  well  now. 
Are  you  not  well?" 

The  tone  and  question  were  sharp,  but  she  smiled  in 
his  eyes  and  answered : 

"I  am  quite  well.    I  was  not  hurt  at  all.    I  am  sorry . 
to  have  given  you  so  much  trouble."  \ 

"It  was  no  trouble,  little  Goldie,"  said  Mr  Selden.  . 


30  A  Cold  Proposal. 

"But  you  must  not  go  back  to  the  loom.  I  will  find 
a  place  for  you  in  another  department." 

"Thank  you,  but  I  am  all  right  here/sir." 

"Tut!  I  will  give  orders  downstairs,,  You  shall 
have  a  better  place.  I  had  intended  it,  anyhow/' 

She  looked  surprised  and  thanked  him,  but  her  eyes 
were  constantly  looking  into  Donald's. 

Mr.  Selden  went  out  with  Donald,  who  flashed  one 
meaning  glance  at  Goldie  as  he  went. 

What  he  had  done  or  said  he  was  hardly  con- 
scious of. 

"Well,"  cried  the  older  man,  when  they  were  in 
a  place  where  they  could  talk  without  interruption, 
"have  I  won?" 

"You  have  won.  I  do  not  believe  she  is  what  she 
seems.  She  is  a  lady." 

"Most  working  girls  are  that.  But  is  she  not  beau- 
tiful?" 

Mr.  Selden's  tone  angered  Donald  unreasonably. 
He  turned  upon  him  half  fiercely. 

"What  an  interest  you  take  in  her!  You  are  very 
enthusiastic." 

Mr.  Selden  flushed. 

"That  is  true,  Donald,"  he  said  without  noticing 
the  other's  manner.  "The  fact  is  I  am  in  love  with 
the  little  beauty,  in  spite  of  what  I  said  to  Mildred 
this  mornins"." 


A  Cold  Proposal.  3* 

"You  would  make  her  your  wife?"  cried  Donall 
harshly. 

"Why  not?  Of  course  it  would  never  do  for  & 
young  man  like  you,  Donald;  but  when  Mildred  is 
married,  I  shall  be  lonely,  and  shall  need  some  young 
person  around  me." 

"Buy  her,  I  suppose,"  ejaculated  Donald.  "How 
do  you  know  she  is  for  sale?" 

"I  suppose  any  girl  in  her  place  would  marry  a  man 
with  my  money.  Come,  give  me  a  lift  with  the  af- 
'fair." 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?" 

"You  know  my  bet  with  Mildred?" 

"Yes.    Well?" 

"Well,  don't  you  see  that  if  I  can  trap  Mildred  into 
introducing  Goldie  into  society  on  the  plea  of  settling 
the  bet,  I  can  keep  my  little  girl  there  in  spite  of  Mil- 
'dred." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  Why  should  I  help  you 
against  your  daughter?  You  have  no  right  to  ask  it." 

"Well,  be  neutral,  anyhow.  Don't  take  sides  against 
me.  Won't  she  look  a  queen  in  society?  What  a 
sensation!  Did  you  ever  see  such  beauty  in  your  life! 
Donald,  don't  you  believe  she  will  have  me?" 

"No,  I  don't.     Good-by!    I  must  go." 

He  turned  abruptly  away  and  went  swiftly  down 
the  stairs. 

A 


3 2  A  Cold  Proposal. 

He  was  furious,  but  did  not  know  why,  excepting1 
that  he  explained  to  himself  that  a  man  like  Mr.  Sel- 
den  should  be  ashamed  to  think  of  marrying  a  factory 
girl. 

"But  she  won't  have  him/1  he  muttered,  with  a  sort 
of  savage  exultation. 

The  carriage  whirled  him  back  to  the  Selden  man- 
sion. As  he  stepped  out  to  go  up  the  stoop  he  recalled 
that  he  had  left  the  house  with  the  determination 
Iformed  in  his  mind  to  return  and  ask  Mildred  to  be- 
come his  wife  and  mistress  of  Forestmere  Hall. 

As  he  slowly  mounted  the  steps  another  face,  witli 
yiolet  eyes,  rose  up  in  his  mind  as  one  that  would  look 
infinitely  better  than  the  darkly  beautiful  face  of  Mil- 
dred in  the  old  rmll.r_ 

"Am  I  mad?"  he  panted  suddenly.  "Do  I  forget 
what  is  due  my  family?  Take  a  factory  girl  whom  I 
have  seen  but  once  to  my  home?  I  will  ask  Mildred 
to  be  my  wife.  I  will  save  myself  from  this  madness 
which  courses  in  my  veins." 

He  rang  the  bell  vehemently,  though  the  door  was 
opened  while  he  still  had  his  hand  on  the  knob. 

Mildred  was  in  the  little  parlor  beyond  the  drawing- 
room. 

She  said  she  liked  it  because  it  was  co'zy,  and  in- 
him  to  sit  down. 

She  studied  his  face  earnestly  as  he  sat  down,  and 


A  Cold  Proposal.  33 

saw  that  something  had  happened  to  disturb  him.    His 

knitted  brows  told  that, 

i     "Did  you  see  the  factory?"  she  asked, 

I     "Yes,  indeed." 

"And  the — the  beauty  of  the  loom?"  she  queried, 
busying  herself  with  her  fancy  work. 
;     He  flashed  a  swift,  strange  glance  at  her,  shivered 
slightly,  and  replied  in  a  low  tone : 

"Yes,  I  saw  her.  She  is  beautiful.  I  lost  my  bet, 
loo." 

She  looked  up  quickly,  the  color  coming  into  her 
(face. 

"Is  her  voice  so  sweet,  then  ?" 

He  should  have  said  then  that  it  was  less  musical 
(than  Mildred's,  but  the  question  brought  back  to  his 
car  the  tones  of  the  flute-like  voice,  and  he  answered 
in  a  low  tone : 
i     "The  sweetest  I  ever  heard/1 

Something  seemed  to  grip  the  heart  of  the  listening1 
beauty. 

"Perhaps  I  shall  lose  my  bet,  too,"  she  gasped. 

"Who  can  tell?  She  was  not  what  I  expected  to 
see." 

He  closed  his  eyes  as  he  spoke  as  if  to  shut  out 
the  vision  of  the  wondrous  beauty.  Mildred  seemed 
to  divine  his  thoughts. 


34  A  Cold  Proposal. 

"I  must  be  the  judge  of  her  appearance  in  silk,* 
she  said.  "When  is  the  trial  to  be  made?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

He  rose  and  walked  to  the  window.  How  he  would 
like  to  see  Goldie  in  a  silk  gown!  What  would  she  be 
like  in  a  bridal  dress?" 

The  madness  was  coming  on  him  again.  He  seemed 
to  feel  her  heart  throbbing  against  his  as  it  had  done 
for  the  few  ecstatic  moments  while  he  held  her  in  his 
arms. 

He  ground  his  teeth  and  clinched  his  hands.  To 
think  that  he  had  seen  her  but  once,  and  had  spoken 
so  few  words  to  her !  She  had  bewitched  him.  No 
wonder  old  Mr.  Selden  was  crazed  by  hen 

Likely  enough  she  was  a  designing  creature  who 
had  practiced  her  wiles  of  look  and  tone  and  manner. 
That  was  how  she  had  won  Mr.  Selden. 

"Miss  Selden,"  he  exclaimed  suddenly,  his  voice 
husky  with  the  emotions  he  battled  with,  "I  must  say 
something  to  you.  If  it  is  abrupt  you  must  forgive 

me.  I  have  intended  for  some  time "  he  stopped 

and  fought  away  a  vision  of  a  pair  of  violet  eyes. 
"Mildred,  I  went  away  this  morning  determined  that 
when  I  returned  I  would  ask  you  to  be  my  wife.  Will 
you?' 

It  was  an  odd  wooing,  and  the  color  came  and  weirt 


A  Cold  Proposal.  35 

in  her  proud  face  as  she  listened  and  heard  the  words 
she  had  so  longed  to  hear. 

They  did  not  come  as  she  had  dreamed  they  would, 
in  soft,  murmurous  accents,  but  in  a  harsh,  constrained 
way  as  if  he  were  forcing  himself  to  repeat  words 
memorized. 

And  yet  she  would  not  say  a  word  to  show  that  she 
noticed.  Her  heart  was  torn  with  fear  and  jealousy, 
but,  at  least,  she  had  won  him.  She  held  out  her  hand! 
to  him,  and  said : 

"I  will  answer  you  as  frankly  as  you  ask :  Yes,  I 
will  be  your  wife,  for  I  love  you,  Donald." 

She  looked  to  see  some  sign  of  joy  at  her  saftly 
uttered  words,  but  there  was  none,  and  she  muttered 
to  herself: 

"He  has  asked  me  to  be  his  wife,  but  he  does  not 
love  me.  Who  has  come  between  us?  Woe  to  her, 
whoever  she  may  be/' 

They  lunched  together,  and  he  tried  to  act  as  he 
customarily  did,  but  she  could  see  that  he  was  not 
himself. 

They  went  for  the  ride  together  as  arranged,  but 
she  was  sure  he  did  not  know  what  he  was  saying 
half  the  time.  Once  he  asked  suddenly : 

"At  what  time  does  the  factory  shut  down  in  the 
evening?" 

She  told  him,  and  wondered  why  he  asked.     His 


36  A  Cold  Proposal. 

manner  troubled  her,  and  yet  she  dared  not  speak! 
of  it. 

After  the  ride  he  sat  with  her  for  a  while,  but 
was  very  restless  until,  about  five  o'clock,  he  rose 
and  said: 

"There  is  something  I  must  do,  Mildred.  I  forgot 
it.  I  will  return  in  time  for  dinner/' 

He  put  on  his  coat  and  hat  and  hurried  out.  The 
!door  had  hardly  closed  ere  Mildred,  with  set  teeth, 
had  thrown  on  her  street  garments. 

The  next  moment  she  had  glided  silently  from  the 
house  and  was  following  him. 

"I  shall  know  now  why  he  acts  so  strangely,"  she  j 
muttered. 


CHAPTER  V. 

MR.    SELDEN    IS    ENTHRALLED. 

No  sooner  had  Donald  gone  from  the  factory  than 
Mr.  Selden  turned  his  thoughts  to  Goldie. 

He  had  conceived  for  the  beautiful  creature  a  pas- 
sion which  swayed  his  whole  being,  and  which  kept 
his  thoughts  constantly  filled  with  her  image. 

Somehow  it  was  the  same  passion  of  love  which  ani- 
mates the  heart  of  a  younger  person.  There  was  less 
of  mad  longing,  perhaps,  and  more  of  a  fixed  deter- 
mination to  possess  her. 

If  he  had  been  younger  he  might  have  doubted  his 
ability  to  win  her,  but  it  did  not  occur  to  him  now. 
He  had  lived  long  enough  to  have  learned  the  power 
of  money,  and  it  was  not  strange  if  he  had  also  come 
to  think  that  there  was  no  limit  to  its  ability  to  pur- 
chase anything. 

Often,  when  he  was  alone,  he  dwelt  with  infinite 
satisfaction  on  the  look  of  charming  surprise  that 
[would  fill  her  violet  eyes  when  he  told  her  that  he  actu- 
ally intended  for  her  the  honor  of  bearing  his  name. 

The  accident  which  had  happened  to  her  had  given 
him  a  terrible  shock.  What  if  she  had  been  injured 
Or  killed?  It  made  him  shudder  to  think  of  it. 


38  Mr.  Selden  is  Enthralled. 

He  had  intended  to  gradually  lift  her  from  her 
present  position  at  the  loom  to  other  less  hard  work, 
and  at  last  to  put  her  in  a  position  where  she  would 
earn  enough  money  to  dress  better. 

The  accident,  however,  startled  him  into  doing  dif- 
ferently. He  could  not  bear  to  think  that  it  was  pos- 
sible for  the  bewitching  creature  to  run  other  similar 
risks. 

"I  will  make  her  my  typewriter,"  he  muttered  at 
last,  with  a  joyous  ring  in  his  voice.  "Why  did  I  not 
think  of  it  before?  Then  she  will  be  here  with  me 
all  the  time,  and  will  gradually  learn  to  look  on  me 
with  less  awe  than  is  natural  for  her  now." 

He  tapped  his  bell,  and  a  clerk  entered  the  room. 

"Mr.  Snowden,  go  upstairs  and  ask  Miss  Goldie 
Mowbray  to  come  here.  She  has  just  met  with  a  seri- 
ous accident,  and  I  wish  to  talk  with  her." 

In  a  little  while  came  a  timid  knock  at  his  door. 
He  rubbed  his  hands  with  satisfaction  and  called  out 
pleasantly : 

"Come  in!" 

It  was  Goldie  who  shyly  entered  the  room,  and  it 
seemed  to  the  elderly  millionaire  that  she  had  never 
looked  so  beautiful. 

In  fact,  the  accident  had  not  left  her  pale  and  wilted 
as  he  had  expected  to  see  her.  Her  cheeks  glowed 
wkh  a  deeper  pink,  and  her  violet  eyes,  always  won- 


Mr.  Selden  is  Enthralled.  39 

drously  beautiful,  seemed  to  shine  with  an  unwonted 
light. 

She  blushed  divinely  as  she  encountered  the  ad- 
miring eyes  of  her  employer,  and  cast  down  her  own, 
Mr.  Selden  smiled  complacently.  It  delighted  him  to 
see  in  her  such  a  shy  s'pirit.  It  augured  well  for  his 
plans. 

"Miss  Mowbray,"  he  said,  gently;  then  added  with! 
just  a  shade  of  tenderness  in  his  tone :  "But  I  will 
call  you  Goldie,  if  you  please.  You  do  not  care,  my 
dear?" 

She  glanced  up  in  innocent  surprise  at  his  kindness, 
but  never  dreamed  that  the  handsome,  fatherly  old 
gentleman  could  mean  anything  more  than  the  com- 
monest kindness. 

"Oh,  no,  sir!"  she  murmured;  "you  may  call  ine 
what  you  wish,  I  am  sure/' 

"Well,  then,  little  Goldie,  I  sent  for  you  to  speafc 
with  you  concerning  your  accident.  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  shocked  and  distressed  I  was.  I  hope  you  have 
sustained  no  serious  injury." 

"No,  sir.  I  am  sure  nothing  will  come  of  it.  I  was 
not  hurt  at  all,  thanks  to  that  brave  gentleman.  Oh, 
how  brave  he  was!" 

Her  eyes  shone  with  a  soft  and  tender  light  as  she 
spoke,  and  her  flute-like  voice  quivered  with  sup- 
pressed emotion. 


4O  Mr.  Selden  is  Enthralled. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Selden,  unconscious  even  yet  of 
the  change  in  the  heart  that  throbbed  beneath  her 
swelling  bosom;  though  if  he  had  not  been  so  intent 
on  his  own  feelings  of  intense  admiration,  he  could 
not  have  helped  seeing  how  deeply  she  was  moved  as 
she  spoke  of  Donald. 

"I  hope  he  was  not  injured  at  all,"  she  breathed 
in  a  low,  eager  tone.  "I  was  so — so  confused  that  I 
did  not  think  to  ask  him." 

"Oh,  no,  he  was  not  hurt.  Not  likely.  Donald 
Irwin  is  as  strong  and  skillful  as  a  knight  of  old  when 
a  woman  is  in  question.  He  is  a  fine  fellow." 

"Oh,"  murmured  Goldie,  clasping  her  little  hands  in 
an  ecstasy  of  admiration,  "he  is  the  bravest  man  I  ever 
saw.  It  was  like  a  knight  of  old  to  save  me  in  that 
way ;  was  it  not  ?" 

"Of  course!  of  course!"  admitted  Mr,  Selden,  a 
little  testily,  "those  things  are  characteristic  of  youth. 
I  was  so  myself  when  I  was  a  boy;  but,  little  Goldie," 
and  his  voice  sank  a  little  lower,  "there  are  better 
and  more  solid  qualities  to  be  found  in  older  men.  I 
think  you  will  find  me  very  good  and  kind  to  you." 

"Oh,  yes,  sir,"  she  murmured,  wondering  a  little, 
"I  am  sure  you  are  very  good.  All  the  girls  say  you 
are." 

"Well,  well !  you  shall  not  make  them  out  liars,  little 
Goldie.  I  intend  to  prove  to  you  that  I  am  all  that  the 


Mr.  Selden  is  Enthralled.  41 

girls  say  I  am.  Sit  down,  my  dear.  I  did  not  intend 
to  keep  you  standing.  In  fact,  I  forgot  almost  every- 
thing but  your  pretty  face." 

She  stared  at  him  in  surprise ;  but  as  there  was  noth- 
ing bold  in  his  expression  she  could  not  think  wrong 
of  him,  so  concluded  that  he  was  just  a  nice,  fatherly 
old  gentleman. 

She  blushed  and  sat  down  in  the  cfiair  he  indicated. 
She  hoped  sincerely  that  he  would  not  compliment  hen 
any  more. 

"I  have  intended  for  some  time/'  he  said  with  a! 
smile  of  benevolence,  "to  take  you  away  from  thai! 
loom.  You  are  fitted  for  better  work,  little  Goldie."1 

"You  are  very  kind,  sir;  but  I  am  afraid  I  cannot 
do  anything  else  as  well." 

He  got  up  from  his  chair  and  approached  her.  He 
was  thinking  he  had  never  looked  on  such  a  witching 
face  in  his  life  before.  He  could  not  help  taking 
advantage  of  his  age  to  lay  his  hand  on  her  golden 
head. 

He  had  supposed  he  could  do  it  in  a  sufficiently 
fatherly  way  to  keep  her  from  suspecting  anything  of 
his  real  feel-ings. 

But  as  hie  hand  came  nearer  to  her  gleaming  curls, 
it  began  to  tremble  and  shake;  and  when  he  let  it  rest 
on  the  dainty  little  head,  it  seemed  to  him  that  every 


42  Mr.  Seldeu  is  Enthralled. 

•nerve  in  his  body  tingled  with  successive  shocks  as  of 
electricity. 

Something  like  a  sudden  madness  seized  him,  and 
for  a  moment  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  was  out  of  his 
power  to  resist  the  impulse  to  catch  her  in  his  arms 
and  strain  her  to  his  breast. 

Then  his  reason  resumed  its  sway,  and  he  said  in  a 
voice  that  was  husky  from  restrained  passion : 

"Little  Goldie,  you  are  too  good  to  be  in  there  do- 
ing that  rough  work." 

Something  made  her  draw  instinctively  away  from 
his  hand;  and  she  said,  as  she  glanced  up  into  his 
face: 

"Oh,  sir!  not  too  good.  No  one  is  too  good  to 
work.  I  have  nothing  to  complain  of.  There  are 
others  who  have  a  harder  time  than  I  have." 

"That  may  be,"  he  said,  drawing  away,  for  he 
feared  himself  if  he  remained  so  close  to  her;  "but  it 
does  not  affect  my  purpose.  You  at  least  shall  not 
remain  at  the  loom.  Why,  those  little  hands  are  al- 
ready growing  roughened  by  your  work." 

He  caught  up  the  dimpled  hand  as  he  spoke  and 
held  it  in  his  for  a  moment,  his  pulses  throbbing 
wildly  as  he  did  so. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  affected  as  by  same 
apell  when  he  came  .in  contact  with  her.  He  dropped! 
her  hand  as  if  it  had  been  on  fire  and  turned  away. 


Mr.  Selden  is  Enthralled.  43 

"It  does  not  hurt  my  hands  to  be  rough,'"'  she  said, 
a  faint  touch  of  haughtiness  in  her  tone. 

"Perhaps  not/'  he  replied,  "but  they  are  fit  for  bet- 
ter uses.  I  am  going  to  make  you  my  typewriter  and 
private  secretary." 

"Me!  oh,  sir,  I  know  nothing  of  typewriting,  and  I 
do  not  even  know  the  duties  of  a  secretary." 

"You  shall  soon  learn,  my  dear.  As  for  typewrit- 
ing, you  shall  go  to  a  school  where  they  teach  such 
things,  at  my  expense." 

"But,  sir " 

"Not  a  word,  my  dear  Goldie!  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  that  you  are  just  the  person  I  want  for  the  place, 
and  you  shall  make  no  denial" 

"I  am  sure  I  shall  not  suit,"  Goldie  said  blankly. 

She  hardly  knew  how  to  refuse,  and'  yfct  did  not  see 
how  she  could  fill  a  position  she  had  never  even  con- 
templated. 

"Nonsense!  you  are  ten  times  as  bright  as  the  ma- 
jority of  girls  who  do  such  things.  You  are  to  begin 
to-morrow  morning." 

"Well,  sir,  I  shall  do  my  best  to  please  you." 

He  bent  a  sudden  look  upon  her  beautiful  face,  and 
said: 

"Have  no  fear  but  you  will  succeed,  my  dear.  Be 
here  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  I  will  give 


44  Mr.  Selden  is  Enthralled. 

you  your  first  lessons  in  being  secretary.  In  the  after- 
noon you  shall  go  to  some  school." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"You  are  welcome.  But  have  you  no  curiosity  to 
know  what  your  pay  will  be?" 

"I  suppose  it  will  be  less  at  first  than  I  am  getting 
now,"  she  faltered,  wondering  how  she  could  make 
ends  meet  until  she  was  earning  more. 

"Less!"  he  cried  with  a  laugh  of  scorn;  "why,  my 
dear,  you  will  have  fifteen  dollars  a  week  to  begin 
with." 

"So  much?"  she  murmured. 

"And  soon,"  he  added  eagerly,  "you  shall  have 
more.  And  now  go  home.  Do  not  work  any  more 
to-day." 

It  was  on  her  tongue  to  thank  him  for  his  kind- 
ness, but  she  suddenly  remembered  the  words  of  Don- 
ald, appointing  a  meeting,  and  stammered : 

"I — I  would  rather  remain,  thank  you.  I — I  prefer 
to  work." 

Then,  fearing  he  would  insist,  she  fled  from  the 
room,  and  hastened  to  the  upper  floor,  knowing  she 
could  find  something  to  do. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

DONALD    DECLARES    HIS    PASSION. 

The  foreman  of  the  room  found  something  for  her 
to  do,  and  it  was  not  until  the  noon  hour  that  the  girls 
had  any  opportunity  to  question  her. 

They  began  by  declaring  it  was  mean  of  Mr.  Selden 
to  make  her  work  the  rest  of  the  day  after  her  narrow 
escape.  But  she  assured  them  that  he  had  wished  her 
to  go  home,  and  then  told  them  what  he  was  going 
to  do  for  her. 

There  was  a  sudden  silence  at  her  words,  and  she 
saw  that  the  girls  were  all  exchanging  glances.  Gertie 
was  the  first  one  to  speak. 

"Well,  you  are  a  lucky  girl,"  she  said.  "The  hand- 
somest man  I  ever  saw  rescues  you,  and  carries  you 
away  in  his  arms,  and " 

"See  how  she  blushes!"  cried  Clara,  with  a  laugh. 
"Confess,  Goldie,  that  you  liked  that  part  of  the  ad- 
venture!" 

"It  was  very  noble  of  Mr.  Irwin  to  save  me,"  Goldie 
stammered. 

"And  very  noble  of  Mr.  Selden  to  give  you  such  a 
soft  place,"  said  one  of  the  girls  dryly. 

The  others  laughed,  but  Goldie  did  not  comprehend! 
.what  hidden  meaning  lay  under  the  words. 


46  Donald  Declares  His  Passion. 

"But  it's  a  very  good  thing  to  have  two  strings  to 
your  bow,"  said  Clara. 

"Or  two  beaus  on  a  string,"  laughed  another  girl. 

"Especially  where  the  string  is  .golden,"  added  Ger- 
tie. 

"How  can  you  talk  so?"  cried  Goldie,  in  distress, 
"I  will  not  listen!" 

And  she  turned  toward  the  door  and  left  the  room. 

"I  wonder  if  she  has  lost  her  heart  to  that  hand- 
some stranger,"  said  Clara. 

"I  don't  know,"  some  one  answered;  "but  I  saw 
him  look  down  at  her  as  he  carried  her  to  the  little 
room,  and  the  flame  that  leaped  from  his  dark  eyes  set 
my  heart  throbbing.  I  say  it  will  be  a  match." 

"A  match!"  sneered  one  of  the  older  girls.  "Let 
Goldie  Mowbray  beware  of  such  as  he.  I  have  seen 
such  men  before.  He  is  an  aristocrat  to  the  tips  of  his 
fingers,  and  he  would  no  more  wed  her  than  he  would 
pluck  his  flashing  eyes  out." 

"Flora  is  right,"  whispered  another.  "See  how  Mr. 
Selden  is  getting  her  near  him.  Do  you  think  he 
wants  to  marry  her?  She  is  beautiful,  and  men  must 
love  her;  but  she  should  be  careful  not  to  lose  her 
heart  out  of  her  station.  Rich  men  do  not  marry  poor 
.girls  outside  of  stories." 

"You  needn't  be  afraid  of  Goldie,"  declared  Gertie, 
warmly.  "She  is  too  good  and  pure  to  need  any- 


Donald  Declares  His  Passion.  47 

body's  warning.  Besides,  why  shouldn't  she  marry  a 
rich  aristocrat?  Where  is  there  a  more  beautiful  girl 3 
Where  is  a  better?" 

"Beauty  and  goodness !"  was  the  scornful  exclama- 
tion of  the  first  speaker.  "What  will  they  avail  her  if 
the  man  she  gives  her  heart  to  wishes  to  deceive  her. 
As  good  as  she  have  been  betrayed  by  false-hearted 
men,  and  I  tell  you  that  those  who  watch  beautiful 
Goldie  Mowbray  will  have  cause  to  weep  for  her," 

Goldie,  meanwhile,  disturbed  in  mind  by  what  she 
had  heard,  but  unable  in  her  innocence. to  comprehend 
the  hidden  meanings,  kept  at  her  work  faithfully  all 
the  afternoon. 

And  soon  she  had  forgotten  everything  in  the  bliss- 
ful thought  that  Donald  Irwin  had  asked  her  to  meet 
him  that  evening. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  could  still  feel  the  pressure 
of  his  strong  arms  about  her,  and  her  bosom  rose 
and  fell  in  a  tumult  of  delight  whenever  she  recalled 
the  expression  of  his  eyes  as  he  gazed  into  hers,  and 
bade  her  meet  him. 

She  knew  that  she  loved  him  with  all  the  passion 
of  her  strong  nature,  and  it  seemed  hardly  a  possible 
thought  that  he  did  not  love  her  equally  so. 

It  was  to  her  as  if  she  had  been  asleep,  and  had 
suddenly  awakened  in  a  world  so  full  of  joy  and  hap- 
piness that  she  was  fairly  dazed  by  her  emotions. 


48  Donald  Declares  His  Passion. 

She  dreamed  all  the  afternoon  of  what  he  would 
say  to  her  when  they  met.  And  a  hundred  times  her 
lips  parted  to  murmur  the  words  that  were  in  her 
heart  to  say  to  him. 

Not  that  she  would  really  be  so  unmaidenly  as  to 
say  them  to  him  until  he  had  made  it  easy  for  her  to 
do  so,  though. 

But  how  her  heart  throbbed  that  evening  when  the 
factory  doors  opened  and  let  her  out  with  the  others ! 

The  others  might  be  tired  and  anxious  only  to  reach 
their  homes,  but  she  was  as  if  she  had  rested  on  a  bed 
of  roses  the  whole  day. 

Her  step  was  springy,  and  no  one  had  ever  before 
seen  even  her  eyes  so  full  of  the  lambent  light  of  joy. 

And  yet,  as  she  glided  apart  from  the  other  girls, 
and  felt  that  her  handsome  deliverer  might  join  her  at 
any  moment,  her  heart  began  to  flutter  with  fear. 

She  walked  on,  listening  for  the  step  she  was  sure 
she  would  know,  hoping  at  each  moment  to  hear  the 
ivoice  which  had  the  power  to  send  the  blood  leaping 
in  her  veins. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  must  not  look  around  or 
appear  to  care,  yet  a  terrible  pain  was  in  her  breast 
as  she  walked  on  and  there  came  not  the  sounds  she 
lhad  longed  for  all  the  day  since  Donald  had  left  her. 

She  knew  she  was  alone,  and  that  none  of  the  girl? 


Donald  Declares  His  Passion.  49 

could  be  near  to  see,  and  in  the  midst  of  her  poignant 
fear,  she  began  to  ask  herself  if  she  might  not  have 
taken  a  way  that  led  her  from  him. 

Then  sounded  a  step  behind  her,  and  it  seemed  to  her 
that  her  heart  swelled  and  crowded  up  into  her  throat 
until  she  was  nigh  suffocation.  But  it  was  the  fullness 
of  a  joy  she  had  never  felt  before. 

Her  love  was  near,  and  the  rest  of  the  world  faded 
out  of  sight  and  mind. 

He  was  near,  and  his  voice  would  sound  on  her  en- 
tranced ear  in  a  moment. 

"Goldie!" 

Her  breath  came  and  went  between  her  parted  red 
lips,  and  all  she  could  do  was  to  look  up  into  his  eyes 
like  a  dumb,  adoring  creature. 

He  took  her  rounded  arm  in  his  hand  so  that  he 
might  walk  by  her  side  in  greater  harmony  with  her 
step.  His  touch  thrilled  her  so  that  she  seemed  to 
float  rather  than  walk. 

"Goldie/'  he  said,  his  voice  low  and  murmurous 
with  a  vibrant  passion  he  could  not  control,  "I  was 
afraid  t  had  missed  you." 

"I  feared  it,  too,"  she  whispered  brokenly. 

"You  hoped  I  would  come,  then?"  he  asked  huskily. 

He  was  fighting  himself  with  all  his  strength,  but 
the  words  seemed  to  come  without  his  volition. 

He  had  gone  to  the  factory,  and  had  struggled  with 


50  Donald  Declares  His  Passion. 

himself  for  strength  to  turn  back  and  not  see  the  face 
which  had  bewitched  his  senses. 

He  had  walked  away  from  the  factory  at  the  last 
moment,  and  then  had  turned  fiercely  back,  saying  to 
himself  he  would  see  Goldie,  but  would  be  strong. 

Now  he  was  walking  by  her  side,  trying  to  form 
words  which  should  let  her  know  that  he  was  engaged 
to  Mildred  Selden;  and  instead  of  speaking  those 
words,  his  lips  were  uttering  such  as  conveyed  love  to 
the  heart  of  her  whose  violet  eyes  had  confessed  her 
adoration. 

"You  said  you  would  come/'  was  her  low  response 
to  his  question. 

"And  you  knew  I  would  do  as  I  said?"  he  queried 
softly. 

Her  only  answer  was  another  glance  up  into  his 
face.  They  were  near  the  brilliant  light  of  an  electric 
lamp,  and  he  could  read  the  pure  soul  behind  the  violet 
eyes.  And  he  could  also  read  the  love  that  possessed 
that  soul;  he  could  see  what  it  is  given  only  to  love 
to  see. 

"Goldie,"  he  panted,  "do  you  think  you  could  al- 
ways trust  me?  Are  you  so  sure  of  my  truth  that  you 
would  never  doubt  it  ?" 

"I  do  not  think  I  could  ever  doubt  you,"  she  rrmr- 
mured. 


Donald  Declares  His  Passion.  51 

"I  call  you  Goldie,"  he  said,  his  lips  near  her  cheek; 
"why  do  you  not  say  Donald  to  me?1' 

"It  will  not  be  hard/'  she  murmured  shyly;  "I  have 
been  calling  you  so  to  myself  all  "day." 

A  cry  of  fierce  joy  broke  from  his  lips  and  his  arm 
stole  about  her  rounded  waist.  He  no  longer  had  con- 
trol of  himself.  He  knew  that  his  heart  loved  her, 
and  that  he  could  no  longer  resist  its  pleading. 

The  future  might  take  care  of  itself. 

"Goldie,"  he  panted,  his  breath  fanning  her  cheek, 
"your  eyes  and  your  words  tell  me  that  you  love  me. 
If  my  eyes  tell  the  truth  of  my  heart  they  must  reveal 
a  consuming  passion  to  you.  As  for  my  words — » 
Goldie,  I  love  you  with  an  intensity  that  makes  me  for- 
get everything  else." 

"Donald !"  she  whispered,  turning  her  head  to  look 
up  into  his  eyes.  • 

For  a  moment  they  seemed  to  grow  intoxicated; 
then  their  lips  met  in  a  rapturous,  ecstatic  kiss. 

"Goldie,  we  never  met  until  this  morning — a  few 
hours  ago — but  the  moment  my  eyes  fell  upon  you  I 
knew  you  were  sent  from  heaven  to  be  my  mate.  Do 
you  believe  in  affinities?" 

"I  do  now,  Donald.  I  never  loved  before.  I  had  a 
strange  feeling  in  my  heart  this  morning  ere  I  saw 
you.  It  was  as  if  Heaven  were  preparing  me  for  your 
Coming.  When  I  saw  you  I  understood.  My  heart 


tr 
52  Donald  Declares  His  Passion. 

seemed  to  leap  from  my  breast  and  fly  to  you.  I  fell 
your  heart  enter  in  its  place.  I  loved  you  and  I  knew 
that  you  loved  me." 

"It  is  fate,"  he  whispered. 

"Why  do  you  say  fate?  That  is  a  word  that  fright- 
ens me,  Donald.  And  your  arm  trembles  as  it  holds 
me." 

He  did  not  answer  in  words,  but  as  there  was  no 
one  near  to  see  them,  he  drew  her  to  his  breast  and 
rained  passionate  kisses  on  her  lips  and  all  over  her 
beautiful  face. 

"Fate !"  he  said  hoarsely ;  "we  can  defy  fate,  or  bless 
it.  If  we  love,  that  is  enough." 

"Yes,"  she  murmured,  "it  is  enough." 

"I  have  a  little  home  in  the  far  South,  Goldie.  You 
will  go  there  with  me,  will  you  not?  You  will  g<S 

there  and  hide  with  me  from  the  world." 

•  ^ 

"I  will  do  what  you  wish,  Donald.  If  I  have  you  I 
<do  not  care  for  all  the  rest  of  the  world." 


CHAPTER  VII. 
MILDRED'S  MAD  LOVE. 

Mr.  Selden  had  dressed  for  dinner  and  was  sitting 
Sn  the  library,  waiting  for  his  daughter  and  Donald 
to  return  home,  for  he  had  been  told  that  both  were 
Out,  and  had  naturally  concluded  that  they  had  gone 
{together. 

He  was  glancing  over  the  evening  paper  in  a  com- 
placent mood,  for  he  was  well  satisfied  with  the  events 
Of  the  day. 

The  chief  thing  that  pleased  him  was  that  his  affair 
With  Goldie  was  in  such  a  fair  way;  but  he  was  also 
gratified  with  a  turn  he  had  made  on  Wall  Street. 

"Everything  prospers  with  me/'  he  murmured. 
"Ah,  when  I  think  of  Mildred  wedded  to  Donald,  and 
little  Goldie  ruling  here  in  her  stead !" 

He  nodded  his  head  in  the  extremity  of  his  joy  over 
the  thought,  and  was  trying  to  settle  down  to  a  perusal 
of  his  paper,  wher^  the  door  was  thrown  violently 
Open,  and  Mildred  swept  into  the  room,  her  eyes  flam- 
ing, and  Her  lips  distorted  with  an  inward  rage. 

"My  dear*!"  he  cried,  starting  up.  "What  is  the 
matter?  Where  is  Donald  ?" 

"Donald!"  she  gasped.  "That  factory  girlf  curse 
Kerf" 


54  Mildred's  Mad  Love. 

"What  factory  girl?  Of  whom  are  you  talking? 
[What  is  the  matter  ?  Be  calm !  Where  is  Donald  ?" 

She  grasped  him  by  the  arm,  her  black  eyes  flaming. 

"I  left  him  holding  your  factory  girl  in  his  arms, 
his  kisses  raining  on  her  lips,  his  words  whispered  in 
her  ears." 

Mr.  Selden  cried  out  in  amazement. 

"Are  you  mad?    Do  you  mean  Goldie  Mowbray?" 

"Is  that  her  name?  I  suppose  it  is  she.  He  came 
home  from  his  visit  to  the  factory,  and  I  could  see 
that  something  had  happened.  Can  you  tell  me?" 

"We  reached  her  loom  just  as  a  terrible  accident 
came  near  ending  her  life." 

"I  wish  it  had!" 

"Donald,  with  great  presence  of  mind  and  strength, 
rescued  her." 

"I  wish  he  had  let  her  perish  in  torment.  What 
then?" 

"Nothing  then,  my  dear.  He  carried  her  into  a 
small  side  room,  and  she  revived  there.  Then  he  left. 
That  is  all." 

"Ah !  You  are  blind.  There  must  have  been  more. 
I  cannot  be  mistaken.  I  had  hardly  ceased  to  tell  him 
that  I  would  wed  him  when " 

"You  would  wed  him  ?    He  has  proposed  then  ?" 

"He  has  proposed  and  I  have  accepted  because  I  love 
him.  Do  you  understand  what  it  means  when  I  say 


Mildred's  Mad  Love.  55 

I  love  him?  It  means  that  a  volcano  has  burst  its 
bonds  and  is  pouring  a  torrent  of  burning  passion  from 
its  heart.  I  love  him  and  I  will  destroy  what  comes  in 
my  way/' 

She  looked  so  fierce  and  wild  that  he  shuddered  at 
her  expression. 

"I  say,"  she  went  on,  "that  I  will  destroy  what 
comes  between  him  and  me.  The  words  were  still 
sounding  in  my  ears  when  he  abruptly  left  me.  I  knew 
something  was  wrong,  and  I  followed  him.  I  saw 
him  meet  a  golden-haired,  blue-eyed  beauty,  who  came 
from  the  factory.  Are  there  two  who  answer  co  the 
description?" 

"You  saw  him  meet  Goldie?"  her  father  gasped. 

"Yes,  meet  her  and  twine  his  arm  about  her  waist, 
and  press  his  fervid  kisses  on  her  lips." 

"And  he  asked  you  to  be  his  wife?" 

"He  had  asked  me  to  be  his  wife.  But  it  is  his  love 
I  want.  Do  your  think  I  would  be  satisfied  with  the 
dry  husks  of  wifehood,  when  his  love  ,was  given  to 
another?  I  will  kill  her!" 

"And  he  knew,"  cried  her  father,  angrily,  "that  I 
intended  to  make  her  my  wife !" 

"Your  wife?"  and  his  daughter  turned  on  him  with! 
a  glance  of  unutterable  scorn. 

"Yes,  my  wife.  You  will  be  gone,  and  I  shall  be 
lonely.  How  dared  he  do  it  ?" 


56  Mildred's  Mad  Love, 

"And  you  would  wed  a  girl  from  your  factory? 
Have  you  no  sense  of  pride?  Do  you  think  I 
would " 

She  stopped,  as  a  new  thought  claimed  her  atten- 
tion. Her  father  answered  with  dogged  wrath : 

"I  did  not  intend  to  consult  you.  You  should  have! 
the  husband  of  your  choice;  why  should  not  I  wed 
where  I  pleased?" 

She  clutched  him  by  the  arm. 

"Marry  her.  I  will  help  you.  She  must  be  takeii 
from  him.  I  will  not  let  her  come  between  us.  Do 
you  know  that  I  mean  it  when  I  say  I  will  kill  hen 
rather  than  let  her  have  his  love?" 

"You  will  help  me  take  her  from  him?"  he  cried 
eagerly,  for  it  had  seemed  a  moment  before  as  if  he 
had  lost  all  hope  of  winning  the  beautiful  creature, 
and  as  he  gave  up  hope  he  learned  how  madly  he 
wanted  her. 

"Yes.  But  we  must  lose  no  time.  She  is  a  de- 
signing creature  who  will  try  to  lure  him  on  to  desert 
me  and  wed  her.  And  he  must  love  her  passionately, 
or  he  would  not  leave  me  with  a  proposition  of  mar- 
riage fresh  on  his  lips  to  go  to  her." 

"Have  you  any  suggestion  to  make?"  her  father 
asked. 

"No,  I  have  thought  of  nothing.     My  heart 


Mildred's  Mad  Love.  57 

filled  with  fury,  and  my  one  idea  was  to  kill  hetf 
somehow." 

'Tut  such  thoughts  from  you,  Mildred.  A  plan 
suggests  itself  to  me.  He  must  suspect  nothing  of 
your  discovery." 

"I  will  not  betray  myself." 

"Do  you  remember  the  bet  you  and  I  made  this 
morning?" 

"I  remember  no  bet.  What  can  it  have  to  do  with 
this  matter?" 

"Everything.  You  bet  me  that  she  would  look  like 
a  guy  in  a  silk  dress  in  a  drawing-room.  Do  you  not 
remember  now  ?" 

"Yes;  well?" 

"Well,  you  must  pretend  to  a  willingness  to  test  th3 
bet.  Say  nothing  to  him  of  it,  however,  but  come  to 
the  factory  alone  to-morrow,  and  let  me  introduce! 
Goldie  to  you." 

"I  do  not  understand." 

"You  will. presently.  Be  very  kind  to  her,  and  invite 
her  to  come  to  see  you.  Get  her  here  and  worm 
everything  out  of  her.  I  am  sure  she  is  not  designing, 
as  you  think.  If  she  is  not,  all  you  need  do  is  to  leti 
her  be  a  witness  of  a  scene  between  you  and  Donald.; 
Get  him  to  admit  that  he  is  your  promised  husband*, 
If  I  am  not  mistaken  in  the  girl  she  will  be  willing 
to  wed  me  that  moment."  J 


58  Mildred's  Mad  Love. 

Mildred  fixed  her  burning  eyes  on  her  father  for  a 
moment,  then  hissed : 

"I  will  try  your  way ;  but  I  swear  that  if  it  does  not 
succeed,  I  will  take  some  other  way  of  .ridding  myself 
of  her." 


t 

I 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    PLOT    AGAINST    GOLDIE. 

It  was  impossible  for  either  Mildred  ©r  her  father 
to  comprehend  the  condition  of  Donald's  mind. 

He  hardly  comprehended  it  himself.  All  he  was 
fully  aware  of  was,  that  Goldie  drew  him  to  her  as  by 
a  spell  of  enchantment,  even  while  he  was  struggling 
with  all  his  might  to  be  true  to  the  traditions  of  his 
race. 

It  was  a  fight  of  pride  of  blood  against  a  mad, 
overpowering  love.  From  his  birth  he  had  been  taught 
to  look  down  on  all  who  belonged  to  Goldie's  walk  in 
life;  and  now  he  was  like  one  bewitched. 

It  seemed  to  him  like  a  madness;  and  he  almost 
staggered  and  reeled  like  a  drunken  man  when  he  left 
Goldie. 

He  asked  himself  what  he  should  do.  He  had  pur- 
posely asked  Mildred  to  be  his  wife  in  order  that  he 
might  have  that  safeguard  against  his  passion  for 
Goldie ;  and  yet  he  had  told  Goldie  of  his  love  and  had 
asked  her  to  go  to  his  Southern  home  with  him. 

He  could  not  wed  both  of  them;  he  could  not  de- 
ceive both.  One  he  might  wed;  and  one  he  might 


60  The  Plot  Against  Goldie. 

deceive.  He  must  wed  Mildred.  Should  he  deceive 
Goldie? 

There  was  another  way:  He  might  wed  Mildred 
and  tell  Goldie  that  it  was  all  a  mistake,  and  that  she 
must  give  him  up. 

But  there«came  a  wrench  at  his  heart  when  he  con- 
templated that,  and  he  knew  he  would  never  willingly; 
give  up  the  woman  he  loved  with  so  furious  a  passion 
that  it  swept  him  out  upon  an  unknown  sea,  in  whicli 

he  was  tossed  like  a  helpless  bark  in  a  tempest. 
i 

It  flashed  into  his  brain  that  there  was  yet  one  other 

•  way:     He  might  go  to  Mildred  and  tell  her  that  he 
had  make  a  mistake,  then  wed  Goldie. 

But  at  that,  his  pride,  which  was  like  a  fatal  disease 
which  was  eating  into  his  very  soul,  revolted.     Wed 
:  a  factory  girl  ?    Never ! 

He  dared  not,  after  that,  face  the  truth  of  his  own 
|  determination.  And  yet  it  rose  up  before  him  ap- 
'  pallingly  clear  and  distinct 

If  he  would  not  wed  her,  and  would  not  give  her 
up;  if  he  would  wed  Mildred,  and  yet  keep  Goldie, 
there  was  but  one  conclusion :  He  must  ruin,  betray, 
deceive  the  trusting  heart ! 

Ah!  Satan  must  have  laughed  aloud  when  he  wit- 
nessed the  struggle  in  that  proud  breast. 
(     Mildred  and  her  father  saw  that  he  was  perturbed. 


The  Plot  Against  Goldie.  61 

but  they  could  not  fathom  the  depth  of  his  agony; 
and  he  never  suspected  that  they  saw  aught  amiss  in 
him. 

The  two  betrothed  ones  went  to  the  theatre  that 
night,  and  each  made  a  show  of  enjoying  the  play. 
Yet  neither  could  have  told  of  one  thing  that  hap- 
pened on  the  stage. ' 

Each  was  rejoiced,  too,  when  the  ordeal  of  acting 
their  own  parts  was  over;  and  Mildred  retired  to  her 
own  room  that  night  ready  to  tear  the  heart  from  the 
breast  of  the  girl  who  had  won  the  love  of  her  fiance. 

The  next  morning  she  pleaded  an  engagement,  and 
Donald,  rejoiced  to  have  his  freedom,  went  away  to 
his  club,  where  he  might  smoke  in  solitude. 

Almost  instantly  after  his  departure  Mildred  threw 
on  her  wraps,  and  stepped  into  the  carriage  which  was 
waiting  for  her  in  front  of  the  house. 

She  looked  up  at  the  great  factory  building  when 
she  stood  in  front  of  it  at  last  with  a  proud  scorn,  and 
a  wonder  entered  her  brain  how  it  was  possible  for 
a  haughty  Southerner  like  Donald  to  let  his  fancy 
wander  to  one  who  worked  for  a  living. 

She  asked  for  her  father,  and  was  taken  to  his  pri- 
vate office. 

She  knew  she  would  meet  her  rival  in  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  she  schooled  herself  to  keep  her  face  from 
betraying  the  bitter  hatred  that  seethed  in  her  heart. 


62  The  Plot  Against  Goldie. 

"I  will  give  her  a  chance  for  life/'  she  muttered; 
"but  I  will  destroy  her  ruthlessly  if  she  does  not  ac- 
cept it." 

She  had  seen  Goldie  on  the  street  when  Donald  was 
straining  her  to  his  breast;  but  even  if  her  fury  had 
not  then  blinded  her,  she  would  not  have  been  able  to 
judge  of  her  beauty. 

"I  shall  see  what  there  is  in  her  face  that  makes  men 
go  mad  over  her/'  she  thought  as  she  opened  the  door 
of  the  office  and  entered. 

Mr.  Selden  was  there,  but  the  eyes  of  Mildred  did1 
not  see  him.  They  fell  on  the  face  of  Goldie,  and 
Mildred  knew  that  she  was  the  most  wondrously  beau- 
tiful creature  in  the  world. 

She  knew  that  Donald  would  never  cease  to  love  the 
possessor  of  that  face,  and  that  there  was  nothing 
but  death  which  could  remove  that  obstacle  from  her 
path. 

After  her  father  had  greeted  her  he  said : 

"By  the  way,  Mildred,  let  me  introduce  to  you  my 

new  secretary,  Miss  Goldie  Mowbray.     Goldie,  this  is 

daughter,  Miss  Mildred/1 
Goldie  rose  shyly  and  bent  her  lovely  golden  head, 

and  every  movement  of  her  rounded,  graceful  form 

sent  a  new  and  bitter  pang  to  the  heart  of  the  proud! 

girl. 


The  Plot  Against  Goldie.  63 

"I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,"  Goldie  said  mod- 
estly. "Your  father  has  been  too  kind  to  me/" 

The  musical,  silvery  voice  was  an  added  torment  to 
the  heart  of  Mildred,  and  if  she  had  followed  out  her 
first  impulse,  she  would  have  buried  her  jeweled  fin- 
gers in  the  white  throat,  and  would  not  have  relaxed1 
her  hold  until  the  sweet,  seductive  tones  were  stilled 
forever. 

But  she  was  forced  to  stifle  her  fury  and  smile  as 
sweetly  as  she  could  at  the  innocent  girl.  She  even 
took  the  little,  dimpled  hand  in  hers  and  murmured : 

"Papa  has  mentioned  you,  Goldie,  and  I  am  glad  to 
meet  you.  You  are  all  his  flattering  words  declared. 
Ah!  you  do  not  know  what  pleasant  words  he  has- 
spoken  of  you!" 

Then  Mildred  could  have  stabbed  her  to  the  heart 
for  the  rosy  blush  that  mounted  to  her  round  cheeks. 

"I  have  done  nothing  to  deserve  his  kindness," 
Goldie  said  in  her  embarrassment. 

Mildred  laughed. 

"I  do  not  know  as  to  that,  but  it  is  evident  you  have 
the  gift  of  making  people  love  you.  I,  for  example, 
have  fallen  a  victim  at  first  sight,  and  whether  papa 
likes  it  or  not,  I  am  going  to  steal  you  away  from 
here." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Mildred?"  her  father  de- 
manded with  pretended  surprise. 


^6*  The  Plot  Against  Goldie. 

-    * 

"I  mean  that  I  am  going  to  take  Goldie  home  with 
1  me.  You  and  Donald  are  away  most  of  the  time, 
'  and  I  want  some  one  to  talk  to.  Now,  don't  say  no, 
!  Goldie,  for  I  always  have  my  own  way.  Papa!  tell 
'  her  it  is  useless  to  resist/' 
Mr.  Selden  laughed. 

'That  is  true,  little  Goldie.     Everybody  obeys  Mil- 
(  dred.    So  put  on  your  hat  and  cloak  and  be  gone." 
j      "But  I  am  not  fit,"  pleaded  Goldie,  in  consternation, 
and  looked  down  at  her  neat  but  plain  gown  as  she 
spoke. 

"You  are  fit  if  I  think  so,"  insisted  Mildred;  and 
with  her  own  hands  she  took  down  the  street  garments 
of  the  despised  factory  girl. 

Indeed,  now  that  she  had  seen  Goldie,  she  would  not 
for  any  earthly  reward  have  let  her  escape  her. 

The  bewitching  beauty  of  the  factory  girl  had  mad- 
dened her,  and  into  her  brain  had  crept  a  dark,  terri- 
ble thought. 

"Aye!"  she  murmured  to  herself,  "you  shall  go  with 
me,  and  I  swear  your  beauty  shall  never  charm  the 
heart  of  Donald   from  me  again.     I   swear  that  he 
shall  turn  from  you  with  a  shudder  of  horror." 
"It  seems  so  strange,"  pleaded  Goldie. 
Mildred  laughed  almost  harshly. 
"Why  strange?     Are  you  not  yet  used  to  making 
people  love  you?     Ah!  you  should  be.     Come,  little 


The  Plot  Against  Goldie.  65 

Goldiel  you  shall  tell  me  of  your  lovers  as  we  sit  to- 
gether in  my  boudoir.     Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

Goldie  shuddered  as  she  listened,  and  in  after  days 
she  wished  with  all  the  passion  of  her  soul  that  she 
had  not  gone  with  Mildred  Selden  that  day. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SOWING   THE    SEEDS   OF    DOUBT. 

Goldie  was  not  going  to  the  house  of  Mildred  Sel- 
den  willingly,  and  yet  there  was  a  thrill  of  joy  min- 
gling with  her  unwillingness. 

She  knew  that  Donald  was  visiting  at  the  Selden 
house,  and  that  she  would  meet  him  there.  It  did  not 
occur  to  her  to  ask  herself  if  he  would  be  pleased  to 
meet  her  at  the  house  of  his  friends.  To  her  that  was 
a  matter  of  course. 

Of  course  she  knew  very  well  that  he  was  rich,  while 
she  was  poor,  and  more  than  once  she  recalled  the 
words  of  her  mother  concerning  marriages  of  in- 
equality, but  it  seemed  easy  to  smile  at  the  warning 
when  Donald  was  her  lover. 

She  could  understand  how  it  would  be  dangerous 
in  other  cases,  but  when  the  lover  was  like  Donald, 
the  very  perfection  of  nobility,  it  was  ridiculous  to 
even  think  of  it. 

She  took  her  place  by  the  side  of  Mildred  in  the 
sumptuous  carriage,  whose  cushions  were  so  rich  and 
luxurious,  and  sank  back  with  a  delight  she  could  not 
ress. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  ridden  in  so  mag* 


Sowing  the  Seeds  of  Doubt.  67 

nificently  appointed  a  vehicle,  and  she  confesssed  to 
herself  that  it  was  very  delightful. 

"You  enjoy  riding/'  Mildred  said,  with  an*  air  of 
half  inquiry. 

"I  have  never  ridden  much,"  Goldie  answered 
frankly. 

"That  is  a  treat  that  is  in  store  for  you  then," 
Mildred  said,  showing  her  even  white  teeth  in  a  way 
that  somehow  made  Goldie  think  of  a  wolf,  though  she 
could  not  have  told  why. 

"In  store  for  me!"  Goldie  responded.  "How  do 
you  mean?" 

"Why,"  replied  Mildred,  her  black  eyes  searching 
Ihe  face  of  her  companion,  "such  a  pretty  girl  as  you 
(will  be  sure  to  win  a  rich  husband." 

"I  would  not  care  for  the  riches  of  my  lover," 
Goldie  said  quickly.  "If  I  had  his  love,  and  he  was 
the  man  of  my  heart,  I  would  not  care  if  he  were  the 
.poorest  man  on  earth." 

Mildred  bit  her  lip.  Whether  the  words  of  the 
beautiful  girl  were  true  or  false  they  were  such  as 
would  be  sure  to  win  the  heart  of  a  man.  For  mem 
like  girls  to  be  disinterested. 

"Nonsense !"  she  sneered.  "That  will  do  very  well 
for  you  to  say,  but  it  would  be  difficult  to  make  me 
believe  it.  Of  course  you  want  a  rich  husband.  And, 
flvhat  is  more,  you  will  marry  one." 


o8  Sowing  the  Seeds  of  Doubt. 

"I  may  marry  a  rich  man,"  Goldie  said  with  a  con- 
us  Hush,  "but  it  will  not  be  because  he  is  rich." 

Mildred  laughed,  and  patted  the  round  arm  patron- 
izingly. 

all  I  tell  you  what  I  would  do  if  I  were  you?" 
sla  a^ked. 

"What  would  you  do?" 

"I  suppose  you  are  poor?" 

"Yes,  indeed ;  very  poor.  If  I  did  not  work  I  should 
starve." 

Mildred's  lip  curled  with  scorn,  but  she  turned  her 
head  so  that  Goldie  should  not  see  how  she  was  af- 
fected. It  seemed  strange  to  her  that  even  Goldie's 
beauty  could  win  a  man's  heart,  when  it  was  coupled 
with  the  fact  that  she  worked  for  her  daily^breadj 

"Well,"  she  said,  "you  know  you  are  very  beauti- 
ful. You  do  know  that,  do  you  not?" 

Goldie  grew  as  red  as  a  peony. 

Of  course  she  knew  it;  but  it  was  odd  to  be  asked 
to  admit  it ;  but  she  was  honest  in  everything. 

"I  have  often  been  told  I  was  pretty.     I  suppose  I 
am  to  those  who  like  my  style.     I  think  you  are  far 
ueenly  and  beautiful." 

She  spoke  the  truth  in  that;  for  she  had  often  re- 
gretted she  was  not  a  brunette  instead  of  a  blonde. 
No  doubt  I  am  beautiful,"  Mildred  answered  care* 
"but  you  are  the  kind  of  girl  that  men  always 


Sowing  the.  Seeds  of  Doubt.  69 


want  to  kiss  and  take  in  their  arms.     I  don't  know 
why ;  I  only  know  it  is  so.     Why,  my  father  thinks 
you  are  the  sweetest  and  most  beautiful  creature  he 
•  ever  saw." 

The  red  color  leaped  to  Goldie's  cheeks. 

"We  talked  about  you  at  the  table  yesterday;  and 
I  remember  he  and  Donald  had  a  bet  about  you.  But 
never  mind  about  that.  What  I  was  going  to  say  was 
that  if  I  were  you " 

A  pang  had  shot  to  Goldie's  heart  at  the  story  of 
abet. 

She  did  not  know  why  she  felt  so  uncomfortable 
over  it,  but  she  did;  and  when  she  could  command 
herself  she  interrupted: 
,      "What  was  the  bet,  please  ?" 

"Oh,  never  mind  that.  Just  one  of  those  bets  that 
men  are  always  making  about  us  women.  I  was  going 
to  say " 

"I  Would  like  to  know  what  the  bet  was,  please/' 
insisted  Goldie,  her  voice  taking  on  a  certain  ring  of 
firmness  that  showed  of  what  stuff  she  was  made. 

Mildred  looked  at  her  with  her  teeth  showing  in  that 
way  which  seemed  so  wolf -like  to  Goldie.  It  rejoiced1 
her  to  see  how  the  poison  was  working, 

"Oh,  well,  if  you  must  know,  it  was  like  this:  Papal 
said  you  were  so  good  and  so  beautiful.  Of  course  1 


jo  Sowing  the  Seeds  of  Doubt. 

laughed,  and  so  did  Donald,  for  papa  is  always  telling 
ns  about  one  of  his  factory  girls. 

1  ti  papa  grew  warm  over  it,  and  declared  he 
would  bet  Donald  that  you  were  the  most  beautiful 
girl  in  the  world,  and  that  Donald  would  no  sooner 

veil  than  he  would  want  to  kiss  and  hug  you." 
The  violet  eyes  grew  big  and  wrathful.     How  had 
they  dared  to  talk  so  of  her? 

"Then  Donald  laughed,"  Mildred  went  on,  "and  said 
no  doubt  he  could  kiss  and  hug  you  if  he  felt  like  it. 
Now  don't  be  angry  at  that,  for  Donald  is  a  Southern 
aristocrat,  who  thinks  all  women  who  are  not  of  a  cer- 
tain social  rank  are  hardly  women  at  all." 

"I  cannot,  will  not,  believe  it,"  cried  Goldie  vehe- 
imr.tly. 

Idred  laughed  heartily. 

"\Yhy,  you  silly  child!  you  think  because  he  saved 

your  life  that  he  is  the  very  pink  of  perfection.     Well, 

perhaps  he  is,  but  not  in  the  way  you  think.     Any- 

,  he  made  the  bet,  and  papa  was  so  determined 

that  he  should  not  be  rude  to  you  that  he  made  up  his 

d  to  take  you  into  his  office." 

"Don — Mr.  Irwin  would  never  be  rude  to  me. 
The:  }Q  mistake." 

'!  am  dr.d  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  Mildred  suave- 
"It  ascuve?  me  that  Donald  was  only  jesting  when 


Sowing  the  Seeds  of  Doubt.  71 

he  said  he  had  won  the  bet.     To  tell  you  the  truth  1! 
did  not  believe  him." 

It  seemed  to  poor  Goldie  that  the  whole  world  was 
turning  around. 

Was  it  possible  that  she  was  hearing  the  truth  from 
the  lips  of  Mildred? 

"You  see,"  Mildred  went  on  after  enjoying  the 
misery  of  her  victim,  "we  Northerners  are  so  different 
from  Southerners  about  social  rank.  I  could  not  bear 
that  Donald  should  be  under  a  false  impression  in  re- 
gard to  you.  I  told  him  you  were  as  much  a  lady  as 
I,  but  he  laughed  me  to  scorn,  persisting  that  he  had 
won  his  bet,  which  was  a  proof  that  you  are  not  very 
particular.  Now  don't  say  a  word,  my  dear;  I  know 
without  your  telling  me  that  he  has  not  kissed  and 
hugged  you ;  and  that  is  one  reason  why  I  wanted  you 
to  come  home  with  me." 

"But,"  gasped  the  tortured  girl,  "I  must  speak — I 
must  tell  you " 

"Tell  me  nothing,  my  dear.  Besides,  we  are  home 
now,  and  you  must  not  say  anything  more  until  we  are 
in  my  boudoir,  where  we  can  talk  with  the  utmost 
freedom." 

She  stepped  out  of  the  carriage,  the  door  of  which! 
had  been  opened  by  the  footman,  and  held  her  hand 
for  Goldie  to  follow  her. 

The  young  girl  felt  as  if  she  had  been  inhaling  some 


72  Sowing  the  Seeds  of  Doubt. 

noxious  atmosphere,  and  it  was  on  her  tongue  to  re- 
fuse to  go  into  the  house. 

Then  she  reflected  that  she  must  do  or  say  something 
to  make  clear  the  condition  of  affairs  before  she  parted 
from  Mildred,  whom  she  could  not  like  well  enough 
to  remain  with. 

"If  what  she  says  is  true,"  she  murmured  to  her- 
self, "it  is  some  jest  of  Donald's.  He  is  preparing  to 
let  them  into  the  whole  secret  in  his  own  time.  Why 
did  I  not  think  of  that  at -first?" 

The  thought  gave  her  renewed  life,  and  she  stepped 
lightly  from  the  carriage  and  followed  Mildred  up  the 
stoop. 

The  doubt  of  Donald's  purity  of  intention  had  been 
most  cunningly  instilled  into  the  mind  of  Goldie,  but 
it  had  not  yet  accomplished  its  purpose,  for  Goldie's 
natural  loyalty  carried  her  in  triumph  out  of  the  abyss 
of  suspicion  into  which  Mildred  would  have  cast  her. 

She  could  not  help  wondering  at  the  luxury  that 
was  displayed  in  the  house,  and  it  seemed  more  and 
more  strange  to  her  that  the  proud  beauty  had  invited 
her  there  in  so  friendly  a  way. 

The  boudoir  into  which  Mildred  led  Goldie  seemed 
to  be  the  very  acme  of  luxury  and  lavish  splendor. 

Mildred  threw  herself  on  a  divan  and  motioned  to 
Goldie  to  make  herself  equally  at  home,  while  the  maid 
removed  and  took  away  their  street  garments. 

< 


Sowing  the  Seeds  of  Doubt.  73 

But  the  moment  they  were  alone,  Goldie  rose  to  her 
'feet,  and  said: 

"Of  course  I  am  sorry  there  should  have  been  such  a 
bet;  but  I  will  not  blame  Mr.  Irwin  until  he  has  had 
a  chance  to  explain,  in  my  presence,  what  he  means 
by  saying  he  has  won  his  bet." 

Mildred  gritted  her  white  teeth  in  her  rage  at  these 
words,  for  she  understood  now  that  whatever  inten- 
tions Donald  might  have  toward  Goldie,  she  at  least 
believed  in  his  purity  and  sincerity. 

She  had  the  presence  of  mind  and  the  self-control  to 
hide  her  emotion,  however,  and  to  say  composedly : 

"That  is  right.  Besfdes,  I  want  you  to  show  him 
that  I,  too,  spoke  the  truth  when  I  said  you  would 
be  able  to  don  the  most  sumptuous  garments  and  ap- 
pear in  them  to  as  good  an  advantage  as  if  you  had 
been  born  in  the  purple." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Goldie. 

"I  mean  that  I  am  going  to  have  you  put  on  Some 
of  my  clothes  to  be  presented  to  him  in." 

The  violet  eyes  flashed,  and  the  golden  head  went 
up  with  the  gesture  of  a  queen. 

"That  I  will  not  consent  to  do,"  she  sa;id,  em- 
phatically. "I  will  meet  Mr.  Irwin,  but  it  must  be  just 
as  I  am." 

"What  nonsense!"  said  Mildred  scornfully.  "Let 
me  select  some  things  that  will  suit  you." 


74  Sowing  the  Seeds  of  Doubt 

. 
"No,  I  will  not  appear  before  him  except  in  my  own| 

[clothes.     I  will  not  wear  borrowed  plumage/' 

"Just  as  you  please/'  and  Mildred  shrugged  her 
shoulders,  as  if  dismissing  the  matter  from  her 
thoughts.  "Let  us  talk  of  something  else!  Shall  it? 
be  our  lovers?" 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE     BLOW     FALLS. 

Goldie  could  not  comprehend  then  what  it  was  in 
Mildred  that  made  her  select  such  subjects  for  her 
conversation.  Not  that  there  was  anything  singular  in, 
jirls  talking  to  each  other  of  their  lovers,  for  that  was 
a  common  thing,  as  Goldie  very  well  knew. 

But  somehow  it  did  not  seem  as  if  Mildred  would 
be  one  of  the  sort  to  talk  of  such  things  to  a  stranger, 
for,  veil  her  feelings  as  she  might,  it  was  yet  perfectly 
apparent  to  Goldie  that  her  hostess  was  as  proud  and 
cold  as  an  iceberg. 

Why  then  had  she  gone  to  the  factory  to  get  Goldie 
for  a  companion  with  whom  to  discuss  the  subject  of 
love  and  lovers? 

Goldie  looked  at  the  dark  beauty -as  she  reclined 
with  Oriental  grace  on  the  divan,  and  the  instinct  of 
bitter  enmity  between  then?  troubled  her. 

She  did  not  understand  her  own  feelings,  however, 
and  therefore  did  not  know  how  to  act.  She  felt  she 
must  go  away;  and  yet  she  remained  because  there 
yet  remained  the  necessity  of  being  put  right  before 
Mildred  and  her  father  by  Donald. 

"Have  you  ever  had  a  lover?"  asked  Mildred  lan- 
guidly, as  she  turned  her  dark  eyes  on  Goldie's  face. 


76  The  Blow  Falls. 

"Only  one/'  Goldie  answered  shortly.  It  seemec 
to  her  that  she  could  not  discuss  the  subject  with 
Mildred. 

"Only  one!  dear  me!  I  would  have  supposed  you 
had  had  a  dozen  at  the  very  least.  Tell  me  about 
him." 

"I  would  rather  not,"  Goldie  responded,  in  a  low 
tone. 

"Rather  not!  Oh!  it  was  broken  off,  I  suppose.  I 
am  sorry  I  spoke  of  it,  then." 

"It  was  not  broken  off,"  was  the  swift  rejoinder. 
"He  is  still  my  lover,  and  I  know  he  is  as  true  to  me 
as  I  am  to  him." 

"Oh,  how  delightful!  Was  it  a  long-  courtship,  or 
love  at  first  sight?  I  do  so  love  to  hear  of  such  af- 
fairs. Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"I  cannot  do  that.  It  was  love  at  first  sight.  I  will 
say  no  more  about  it.  Please  do  not  ask  me  to." 

Mildred  laughed  in  that  strange,  wolfish  way  of 
hers,  and  Goldie  again  felt  a  shudder  run  over  her. 

"I  will  be  more  communicative  than  you,  Goldie. 
Did  you  know  that  I  was  engaged  to  be  married?" 
,      "No." 

"Well,  it  is  true,  and  I  believe  we  love  each  other  as 
much  as  ever  two  people  did.  Confess  now,  Goldie, 
that  you  did  not  think  I  would  be  one  to  love  very 
devotedly." 


The  Blow  Falls.  77 

"On  the  contrary,  I  would  think  you  capable  of  a 
very  fierce  love/' 

Mildred  rose  on  one  elbow,  and  her  eyes  seemed 
fairly  lurid  as  she  gazed  at  Goldie. 

"That  is  true;  I  do  love  him  so  fiercely  that  if  I 
thought  him  untrue  to  me,  I  could  kill  him  rathe* 
than  let  another  have  him." 

Goldie  recoiled  before  the  light  in  those  black  eye& 

"And  yet,"  Mildnjf  said  with  a  low  laugh,  "I  am 
not  what  you  would  call  a  jealous  sweetheart.  I  let 
him  have  his  liberty." 

"I  should  not  suppose  he  would  care  for  any  lib- 
erty if  he  loved  you." 

"I  don't  know ;  men  don't  like  to  be  hampered  too 
much.  I  let  my  lover  do  as  he  pleases,  as  long  as  I 
know  he  loves  me.  And  he  does  love  me,  Goldie. 
!Ah,  it  is  so  sweet  to  be  loved;  is  it  not,  dear?" 

"It  is  the  greatest  joy  of  this  earth,"  was  the  low 
response. 

Mildred  gritted  her  teeth,  and  could  have  driven  a 
blade  deep  into  the  heart  of  her  companion.  But  she 
knew  she  would  yet  torture  her  beyond  all  expression. 

So  she  went  on  in  a  low,  velvety  tone  that  seemed 
strangely  like  the  purring  of  a  tigress  over  her  prey: 

"Yes,  to  be  loved  is  a  heavenly  joy.  Sometimes 
when  I  am  held  close  to  his  throbbing  breast,  and  his 
warm  kisses  are  raining  on  my  ready  lips,  it  seems  to 


78  The  Blow  Falls. 

me  that  I  never  can  be  nearer  heaven  than  then.  DC 
you  know  what  that  bliss  is,  Goldie?" 

Goldie  stared  wonderingly  at  her. 

Mildred's  face  was  working  with  a  passion  of  love 
and  longing  as  she  described,  not  what  had  happened, 
but  what  she  would  give  the  world  to  have  happen. 

"I  know  the  happiness  of  being  in  my  lover's  arms," 
Goldie  answered  in  a  low  tone. 

"And  when  he  breathes  burning  words  of  love  and 
devotion  in  my  ear,"  Mildred  continued,  "it  seems  to 
me  I  could  die  so,  rather  than  live  in  any  other  way. 
Ah !  I  love  him,  and  he  loves  me.  Is  it  not  the  sweet- 
est boon  of  life  to  be  sure  of  your  lover,  Goldie?" 

"It  would  be  worse  than  death  not  to  be  sure," 
Goldie  whispered,  her  eyes  big  with  wonder. 

"Then  you  are  sure  of  him?" 

"As  I  am  of  Heaven.  I  would  rather  die  than 
doubt,"  Goldie  responded,  her  eyes  becoming  suddenly 
luminous. 

"Ah !  then  you  do  know  what  love  is,  little  Goldie. 
I,  too,  would  rather  die  than  doubt ;  but  it  is  impossi- 
ble for  me  to  doubt.  But  what  would  you  do  if  ever 
you  discovered  that  your  lover  was  untrue  to  you?" 

"I  do  not  know.  I  have  not  thought  of  that.  I  do 
not  believe  that  can  happen.  Strange  things  may  hap- 
pen, but  that  I  shall  lose  his  love  cannot  happen  be- 
cause we  were  intended  for  each  other  by  fate.  Fate 


The  Blow  Falls.  79 

*  brought  us  together,  and  on  the  instant  that  we  met  we 
knew  that  we  loved." 

She  could  have  gone  on ;  but  stopped  suddenly  with 

•  the  feeling  that  the  ears  that  listened  were  not  sym- 
pathetic,  no  matter  how  eagerly  they   drank  in  her 
words. 

"I  do  not  believe  my  lover  could  be  untrue/'  Mil- 
dred said,  slowly,  as  she  sank  back  upon  the  divan 
again;  "but  I  know  what  I  would  do  if  he  were.  I 
would  kill  him  or  her — perhaps  both." 

Goldie  recoiled. 

"Of  what  use  would  that  be?  You  could  not  win 
bis  love  back,  and  what  would  be  the  use  of  violence 
if  it  did  not  effect  your  purpose?  For  my  part,  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  would  wish  for  death  to  corne  to 
me  if  my  lover  were  untrue.  But  he  will  not  be." 

How  her  calm  assurance  of  the  fidelity  of  Donald 
tortured  Mildred. 

"I  like  your  certainty,"  she  murmured;  "it  shows 
how  dearly  you  love  him." 

"I  love  him  with  all  my  heart  and  soul.  I  give  him 
everything  of  love  there  is  in  my  nature." 

"Ah !  how  glad  I  am  that  we  have  met,  Goldie,  for 
I  see  that  we  can  understand  each  other.  There  are 
so  many  who  cannot  comprehend  such  an  all-absorbing 
passion.  I  tell  Donald  sometimes  that  perhaps  I  shall 
be  punished  for  loving  him  so  wholly." 


80  The  Blow  Falls. 

Go/die  started  back  as  if  she  had  been  struck  in  the 
face. 

"Donald!"  she  gasped. 

"Did -I  not  tell  you?"  queried  Mildred,  watching 
her  victim  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eyes.  "Donald  is 
my  love." 

"Donald!  Donald  who?"  gasped  Goldie,  trying  to 
assure  herself  that  she  was  crazed  to  think  for  an, 
instant  that  it  could  be  Donald  Irwin. 

"Donald  who?"  laughed  Mildred.  "Well,  no  doubt 
there  is  more  than  one  Donald  in  the  world ;  but  I  had 
never  thought  of  it.  I  mean  Donald  Irwin." 

"Don — Donald  Irwin!"  gasped  Goldie,  reeling  in 
her  seat,  then  plucking  up  heart  and  laughing  scorn- 
fully. "You  do  not  of  course  mean  he  who  saved  my; 
life?" 

"Indeed  I  do.  Have  you  such  a  noble  lover  as  he? 
But  of  course  you  will  contend  that  your  lover  is  the 
best  man  in  the  world.  I  suppose  that  is  natural ;  but 
it  does  seem  as  if  it  would  be  hard  for  anyone  to 
dispute  that  my  Donald  is  the  handsomest  and  noblest 
man  in  all  the  world." 

Goldie  sat  gasping  as  if  in  mortal  pain.  Her  head 
seemed  to  be  going  round  and  round. 

Still  she  clung  to  the  idea  that  there  was  some  mis- 
take. 


The  Blow  Falls.  81 

"He-— he  is  very — very  handsome.  You — yott  are 
sure  that — that  he  is  your  lover  ?" 

Mildred  laughed  shrilly  as  if  at  a  stupendous  joke. 

"Am  I  sure  ?  Well,  that  is  funny.  Well,  anyhow, 
we  are  engaged,  and  he  declares  that  he  loves  me 
better  than  all  the  world.  And  he  is  anxious  to  hasten 
the  wedding.  I  suppose  that  is  some  sort  of  proof." 

"You — you  are  to  be — be  married?"  gasped  Goldie. 

"I  hope  so,  indeed,"  laughed  Mildred.  "I  would 
not  be  engaged  to  him  otherwise.  What  odd  questions 
to  ask!  Do  you  not  intend  to  marry  your  lover,  I 
should  like  to  know?" 

Goldie  tottered  to  her  feet,  and  with  a  sort  of  moan 
cried  out: 

"Am  I  alive?  Is  this  true?  Oh,  Heaven,  let  me 
understand  this!" 

"Why,  Goldie,"  cried  Mildred,  feasting  he$  eyes  on 
the  misery  of  the  other,  "what  is  the  matter?  Whyj 
do  you  take  on  so.  Have  I  said  anything  to  disturb 
you?" 

Goldie  did  not  make  any  response.  Her  little  hands 
were  held  tightly  to  her  forehead,  as  if  she  would 
restrain  the  thoughts  that  whirled  in  there. 

What  had  happened  ?  Was  it  true  that  Donald  was 
engaged  to  marry  Mildred  Selden?  Or  could  «'4  K^ 
xhat  she  had  only  dreamed  it? 


82  The  Blow  Falls. 

>' 

She  turned  her  strained  and  agonized  eyes  on  Mil- 
dred and  demanded  in  a  low,  intense  tone : 

''Did — did  you  say  that  you  were  engaged  to  Don- 
ald Irwin?" 

"Certainly  I  said  so.  Why  do  you  act  so  strange- 
ly? Are  you  ill,  Goldie?  Why  do  you  ask  me  so 
many  times  over?" 

Goldie  stared  at  her,  and  as  she  gazed  into  the  sable 
orbs  her  distrust  awakened,  and  her  anguish  urged 
her  to  cry  out : 

"You  are  only  deceiving  me.  It  is  not  true  that 
you  are  engaged  to  him ;  I  know  it  is  not  true.  I  was 
mad  to  believe  you." 

Then  Mildred  rose  from  her  reclining  posture,  and 
in  a  cold,  incisive  tone  said : 

"I  think  you  are  mad;  I  do  not  understand  you  at 
all.  Donald  Irwin  is  my  lover,  and  he  has  asked  me  to 
be  his  wife.  Why  should  you  doubt  it?  What  right 
have  you  to  say  such  a  thing  to  me?  I  did  not  tell 
you  you  were  not  going  to  wed  your  lover.  What  do 
you  mean?" 

Goldie  stared  at  her  hard  and  long,  likt  one  in  a 
maze  of  doubt.  Then  she  recalled  her  words  to  Don- 
ald that  she  would  always  believe  in  him,  and  she 
said: 

"I  mean  that  he  cannot  be  your  lover  and  mine,  too; 
and  he  5:  —7  lover." 


CHAPTER  XL 

A     DAY     OF     TORTURE. 

There  was  a  moment  then,  when  the  life  of  Goldie 
Mowbray  hung  by  but  a  thread. 

Her  words  had  been  expected,  indeed ;  but  there  was 
something  so  proud  and  assured  in  the  utterance  of 
them  as  drove  Mildred  almost  out  of  her  senses. 

A  strangled  cry  of  rage  rushed  from  her  livid  lips, 
and  with  a  panther-like  movement  she  glided  to  her 
writing-desk  where  a  glistening  stiletto  was  hidden. 

She  had  but  to  snatch  that  forth  and  leap  on  the 
beautiful  girl  who  had  dared  to  tell  her  that  Donald 
was  her  lover,  and  she  no  longer  would  be  an  obstacle 
in  her  path. 

But  reason  asserted  itself  in  time;  and  she  hid  her 
purpose  in  stealing  to  the  desk,  by  resting  her  hand 
on  it  as  if  for  support,  and  saying  in  a  surprised  tone: 

"Goldie,  my  dear !  you  are  not  well.  How  could  your 
words  be  true?  When  did  you  first  see  Donald 
Irwin?" 

"I  saw  him  yesterday  for  the  first  time;  but  it  is 
none  the  less  true  that  he  loves  me,  and  wishes  to  weu 
me." 

"Are  you  serious  ?"  demanded  Mildred  in  a  hard 
tone. 


84  A  Day  of  Torture. 

"I  am  stating  the  simple  fact/*  Goldie  answered  as 
Calmly  as  she  could. 

Mildred  eyed  her  with  a  malevolent  look.  She  was 
not  yet  through  with  her  torture.  She  had  thrust 
the  knife  into  her  victim's  heart,  but  the  agony  must  be 
augmented  by  turning  the  blade  with  a  merciless  hand. 

"And  he  is  the  lover  you  have  told  me  of?"  Mil- 
dred asked,  letting  her  contempt  show  in  her  tone. 

"He  is  the  lover." 

"My  poor  girl !  Now  I  understand.  Can  you  not 
see,  my  poor  little  Goldie,  that  he  was  only  winning 
his  bet?  Did  you  really  let  a  man  you  had  seen  bul 
once  press  kisses  on  your  lips,  take  you  in  his  arms?" 

Goldie's  face  was  white  to  the  lips.  She  was  suf- 
fering horribly,  but  she  was  brave  to  trust  to  the  end. 
"If  you  choose  to  put  it  that  way,"  she  answered, 
"yes.  I  loved  him  and  he  me,  so  I  let  him  do  as  he 
would,  and  was  glad." 

"Then  I  must  pay  the  debt.  Oh,  Goldie,  I  am  sorry 
for  you." 

"I  do  not  ask  your  sympathy.  Perhaps  it  were  bet- 
ter that  I  offered  mine  to  you.  I  tell  you  he  loves 
me.  I  could  not  be  deceived.  I  know  he  loves  me.  He 

cannot  love  you." 

Mildred  could  have  torn  Goldie's  tongue  out  by  tlie 
roots. 


A  Day  of  Torture.  85 

"What  is  love  without'  marriage  ?"  she  asked  with  a 
sneer  that  cut  to  the  heart. 

"It  is  sin/'  answered  Goldie  swiftly,  her  head  erects 
and  her  eyes  flaming.     "It  is  sin,  but  Donald  would 
never    shame    himself    or    insult    me    with    even   the 
thought  of  it." 

"And  yet  he  has  asked  me  to  be  his  wife/'  Mildred 
said  pitilessly. 

Goldie's  lip  curled  with  scorn.  Her  courage  began 
to  return  to  her. 

"And  he  has  asked  me  to  accept  his  love.  That 
means  marriage  when  an  honorable  man  asks  it.  Don- 
ald is  an  honorable  man/' 

"He  cannot  marry  us  both/'  Mildred  hissed. 

"I  suppose  he  yvill  choose  where  his  heart  is/'  Gol- 
die retorted.  "I  know  he  loves  me."  <• 

"Donald  Irwin  wed  a  factory  girl!  You  are  mad, 
poor  little  Goldie!" 

"Mad  with  the  joy  of  his  love,  perhaps,"  was  the 
answer. 

"I  can  prove  that  I  am  his  choice,"  Mildred  said  in 
a  low  tone. 

The  calmness  of  the  other  was  almost  more  than  she 
could  bear. 

"I  do  not  believe  it." 

"Will  you  believe  the  evidence  of  your  eyes  and 
cars?" 


86  A  Day  of  Torture 

"I  will  believe  Donald,  though  it  killed  me;  but  I 
will  not  believe -you/' 

Mildred  laughed. 

"Remain  in  this  house  until  Donald  comes,  then* 
and  you  shall  hear  from  his  own  lips  that  I  am  his 
affianced  wife.  And  you  shall  hear,  too,  what  he 
thinks  of  you.  Poor  little  Goldie!  I  am  sorry  for 
you." 

"I  scorn  your  sympathy." 

"When  I  told  you/'  jeered  Mildred,  "to  choose  a 
rich  husband,  I  only  meant  to  barter  your  beauty  for 
an  old  man's  wealth.  It  is  still  my  advice.  But,  as 
for  such  as  Donald — why,  my  dear,  you  are  crazy  to 
hope  for  such  a  thing.  He  considers  himself  far — * 
far  above  you." 

"Where  shall  I  remain  while  I  wait?  It  must  be 
where  I  need  not  listen  to  you.  And  understand  that 
I  wait  not  so  much  to  satisfy  myself  as  to  prove  my 
confidence  in  him.  I  know7  he  loves  me." 

"You  shall  have  a  room  across  the  hall.  Sit  there 
and  watch  when  he  comes  home;  then  steal  down  the 
stairs  after  me  and  listen  to  his  words,  see  what  he 
does.  You  have  my  permission.  But  I  must  beg 
of  you  not  to  make  a  scene.  It  would  be  so  unpleas- 
ant" 

Goldie  did  not  deign  an  answer,  but  opened  thi 


A  Day  of  Torture.  87 

'door  and  went  to  the  room  across  the  hall,  and  there 
sat  down  to  wait. 

She  was  sure  in  her  heart  that  Donald  loved  her, 
and  that  she  risked  nothing  in  waiting1  for  him  to 
come ;  and  yet,  why  that  strange  oppression  around  hetf 
brain? 

And  what  did  it  all  mean  ?  How  much  was  false  and 
how  much  true  of  what  had  happened  to  her  since  she* 
had  left  the  factory  with  the  beautiful  girl,  who 
daimed  Donald  for  her  own? 

It  was  plain  to  her,  though  she  could  not  tell  why, 
that  Mildred  was  false.  But  if  she  were  false  whyf 
would  she  dare  to  risk  having  her  interview  with! 
Donald  spied  upon? 

Goldie  knew  that  Donald  was  rich  and  she  poor, 
but  she  was  sure  he  was  too  noble  to  let  that  weigh! 
with  him.  He  would  be  certain  to  know  that  his 
money  was  nothing  to  her. 

Now  and  again  the  thought  would  offer  itself  that) 
it  might  be  true  that  he  had  only  thought  of  her  as 
one  to  love,  not  to  wed.  But  death  was  preferable  to 
that  idea,  and  she  drove  it  from  her  as  she  would  at 
hideous  thing. 

How  the  time  passed  that  day  she  did  not  know,  nofl 
how  long  it  was  she  waited.  She  knew  that  some- 
times she  paced  the  room  like  a  condemned  criminal, 
and  that  sometimes  she  sat  like  one  in  a  stupor* 


88  A  Day  of  Torture. 

She  remembered  she  was  asked  by  Mildred  to  go 
down  to  luncheon  and  that  she  had  refused,  after 
which  a  tray  full  of  things  had  been  brought  up  to  her. 

She  recalled  afterward  that  she  did  not  touch  a 
thing  that  was  on  the  tray,  and  thai  her  feeling  had 
been  that  a  mouthful  of  food  in  that  house  would 
choke  her. 

How  distinctly,  too,  it  came  back  to  her  in  after 
days  that  she  had  listened  to  the  singing  of  Mildred' 
with  an  awful  feeling  of  hate  and  repulsion  in  her 
heart. 

She  could  have  strangled  her  for  daring  to  sing 
the  gay  songs,  when  the  dread  was  growing  in  her 
own  heart,  though  she  tried  so  hard  to  fight  it  down* 
until  at  last  she  had  heard  a  ring  at  the  doorbell,  and 
had  stolen  to  the  door  to  listen. 

The  door  opposite  had  been  left  open,  too,  and  as 
Goldie  looked  forth  with  her  white  face,  she  looked . 
into  the  sneering  countenance  of  Mildred. 

"It  is  he,  my  Donald,"  Mildred  said. 

Goldie  did  not  answer  because  she  was  afraid  to. 

Mildred  seemed  to  read  her  thoughts  as  if  they  had 
been  spread  out  on  a  printed  page. 

"You  know  he  is  going  to  prove  me  right," 
hissed  across  the  haM. 

Still  Goldie  only  looked  steadfastly  into  her 


A  Day  of  Torture.  89 

as  if  she  would  read  there  the  explanation  of  what 
was  racking  her  soul. 

"He  will  go  into  the  library  to  smoke  a  cigar/7  Mil- 
dred said.  "You  see  I  know  his  habits;  in  a  moment  I 
shall  go  down,  and  you  shall  follow.  Then  you  need 
only  listen  and  look,  too,  if  you  will — for  I  shall  leave 
the  door  open  on  purpose — and  you  shall  learn  that  he 
intends  to  wed  me,  though  it  may  be  that  he  loves  you  j 
a  little.  I  admit  you  are  the  sort  men  like  to  kiss  arid1 
caress. "  I 

Still  Goldie  cfid  not  speak.  If  she  had  tried  to  do  so,  \ 
she  knew  that  her  voice  would  rise  to  a  wail  of  arn  ( 
gtrish. 

It  was  as  if  something  within  her  was  telling  her 
that  she  would  surely  know  a  terrible  woe  within  that ' 
hour. 

She  tried  hard  not  to  doubt  as  she  waited  while 
Mildred  pmt  a  last  touch  to  her  toilet,  which  she  had 
made  as  charming  as  possible.  \ 

Then,  at  last,  Mildred  swept  forth  and  with  a  ' 
sneer  for  Goldie,  glided  down  the  polished  stairs. 

The  young  girl  glided  softly  yet  swiftly,  with  a 
mechanical  movement,  after  her. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WHAT  GOLDIE  SAW   AND  HEARD. 

It  had  been  a  day  of  fierce  unrest  and  dissatisfaction 
to  Donald.  He  had  gone  to  the  club,  and  from  there 
had  wandered  to  first  one  place  and  then  another,  until 
he  had  exhausted  all  the  places  he  could  think  of. 

He  was  battling  now  with  his  pride  and  now  witW 
his  heart.  Ah !  if  he  had  only  understood  himself  bet- 
ter! 

He  truly  loved  Goldie,  but  he  fancied  when  he  was 
away  from  her  that  he  was  only  the  victim  of  a  strange 
infatuation. 

What  puzzled  him  was  that  he  should  be  in  lovs 
with  one  so  far  beneath  him  in  station.  He  had  been 
taught  that  from  his  cradle  up,  and  he  was  shocked 
with  himself. 

The  worst  of  it  was,  in  his  eyes,  that  he  could  not 
put  the  winsome  face  with  its  large,  loving,  violet 
eyes  out  of  his  mind. 

He  kept  seeing  them  all  day,  and  in  spite  of  every- 
thing he  continually  found  himself  looking  forward 
to  the  time  when  he  would  meet  her  again. 

He  had  left  her  the  previous  night  with  the  under- 
standing that  they  would  meet  again  when  she  was 
dismissed  from  her  work. 


What  Goldie  Saw  and  Heard.  91 

But  with  a  dogged  determination  to  let  his  intellect 
govern  him  in  spite  of  the  longing  of  his  heart,  he 
went  during  the  afternoon  and  purchased  a  diamond 
ring  at  Tiffany's. 

"I  will  give  this  to  Mildred !"  he  said  fiercely. 

The  time  was  to  come  when  he  would  look  back  at 
those  hours  as  if  they  had  been  passed  in  madness; 
but  he  could  not  see  it  so  then. 

He  was  conscious  enough  that  he  was  suffering;  but 
he  kept  blaming  himself  for  that,  as  if  it  somehow 
were  a  fault  of  his  own  which  he  was  to  correct  in 
himself. 

Still  it  made  no  difference  what  conclusion  he  came 
to.  In  any  case  he  saw  himself  to  blame.  He  was 
either  treating  Mildred  or  Goldie  shamefully. 

But  he  clung  tenaciously  to  the  idea  that  his  only 
course  was  to  wed  Mildred,  no  matter  how  passionately 
his  heart  clung  to  Goldie. 

At  last  it  resolved  itself  down  into  a  determination 
to  settle  the  matter  with  Mildred  by  taking  her  the 
ring. 

The  library  door  opened  suddenly,  and  he  looked 
up.  It  was  Mildred  who  had  come  bustling  in  with 
a  bright  smile  on  her  lips. 

"Oh!"  she  cried  with  a  little  start  of  surprise,  "I 
did  not  know  you  were  here." 


92  What  Goldie  Saw  and  Heard. 

She  spoke  so  low  that  no  one  out  of  the  room  coulct 
hear.  He  answered  in  a  subdued  tone. 

"I  have  just  come  in." 

Mildred  approached  nearer  to  him,  conscious  with 
a  wicked  joy,  that  there  was  a  pair  of  burning  eyes, 
of  anguished  ears,  without. 

He  looked  up  at  her  as  if  to  divine  her  thoughts. 
She  smiled  sweetly  and  stood  before  him.  As  plainly; 
as  eyes  could  say  it,  she  begged  him  to  kiss  her. 

The  ring  of  betrothal  was  in  his  pocket.  Why  should 
he  not  give  her  the  token  of  affection  she  craved,  even 
though  he  almost  loathed  her  at  the  thought  of  doing! 
it? 

"Mildred !  my  dear !"  he  said,  rising  to  his  feet 

She  inclined  her  head  and  he  pressed  a  cold,  un- 
loving kiss  on  her  brow.  But  it  was  a  kiss,  and  the 
wretched  creature  in  the  hall  could  not  guess  how  lit- 
tle of  love  went  into  it. 

Goldie,  with  stilled  heart  and  bloodless  face  stood, 
like  a  thief  in  the  night,  listening  and  looking.  And 
already  the  blow  had  fallen  on  her  heart. 

"My  darling  Donald!"  Mildred  said,  in  tones  that 
pierced  the  brain  of  the  listener. 

"Mildred,"  said  Donald  with  an  effort,  as  he  thrust 
his  hand  into  his  pocket,  "I  have  brought  you  a  ring, 
so  tnat  our  engagement  may  be  formally  completed. 


What  Goldie  Saw  and  Heard.  93 

I  do  not  know  that  it  will  fit  you,  but  if  not  it  can 
easily  be  changed." 

He  produced  the  ring  and  gave  it  to  her.  She 
noticed  that  his  head  was  almost  averted  as  he  did  so; 
but  Goldie  only  saw  the  ring  given,  and  heard  the 
words  which  made  further  doubt  impossible. 

"What  a  beautiful  diamond!"  Mildred  cried.  "And 
the  ring  fits  perfectly !  Ah !  the  eyes  of  love  are  keen/* 

He  might  have  told  her  that  it  was  the  advice  of  the 
salesman  to  take  that  size,  but  what  was  the  use? 

"Does  it  not  look  well,  Donald?"  she  went  on. 

There  was  a  rustling  of  skirts  in  the  hall,  and  then 
the  shutting  of  the  door. 

"What  was  that?"  he  asked,  singularly  moved. 

Mildred's  eyes  glistened  with  a  fierce  joy  and  tri- 
umph. She  could  have  told  him  that  that  noise  was 
caused  by  the  anguished  flight  of  the  one  woman  irt 
the  world  that  his  heart  craved  for. 

"One  of  the  servants  went  out,"  she  said,  carelessly; 
though  she  turned  her  head,  lest  he  should  see  and! 
wonder  at  her  exultant  expression. 

"I  felt  as  they  say  we  feel  when  some  one  walks 
over  the  spot  where  we  are  to  be  buried,"  he  muttered. 

And  little  wonder  that  he  had  such  a  feeling  in  his 
heart;  for  in  the  soul  of  Goldie  was  such  a  misery  and 
woe  as  might  well  have  sent  a  corresponding  thrill 
to  his. 


94  What  Goldie  Saw  and  Heard. 

She  had  listened  and  looked,  and  there  could  be 
no  doubt  that  the  one  thing  in  the  world  she  most 
feared  was  true — Donald  was  untrue  to  her. 

And  if  this  much  was  true,  if  he  really  was  the  be- 
trothed husband  of  Mildred  Selden,  was  it  not  likely 
that  he  had  but  duped  her  in  everything? 

Must  it  not  be  true  that  he  had  told  her  he  loved 
her,  only  that  he  might  win  his  bet  that  she  would 
let  him  kiss  her  and  take  her  in  his  arms? 

How  horrible!  how  worse  than  death  that  thought 
was,  and  she  could  not  even  buoy  herself  up  with  the 
hope  that  it  might  prove  untrue,  for  she  now  knew 
enough  to  satisfy  her  that  anything  might  be  true. 

She  stood  transfixed  with  horror  for  a  brief  mo- 
ment, and  then  tottered  to  the  door,  which  she  opened, 
and  darted  through. 

She  did  not  know  where  she  was  going;  did  not 
care.  If  she  could  have  the  assurance  that  she  was 
going  to  her  grave,  she  would  have  hailed  the  news 
with  wild  joy. 

The  one  thing  she  wished  then  was  to  get  far  away 
from  that  house,  where  lay  buried  the  dead  hopes 
of  her  torn  and  bleeding  heart. 

The  door  slammed  shut  behind  her,  and,  heedless  of 
where  she  went,  she  dashed  down  the  stoop,  and 
would  have  darted  wildly  up  the  street  but  for  ai 
restrainin-  hand  that  was  laid  on  her  arm. 


LJWhat  Goldie  Saw  and  Heard.  95 

"Why,  Goldie,  what  is  the  matter?" 

She  stared  at  the  speaker,  and  saw  as  through  a 
haze  that  it  was  Mr.  Selden  who  spoke  to  her. 

"Let  me  go!"  she  cried,  wildly.    "Let  me  go!" 

She  tried  to  throw  his  hand  off,  but  he  clung  to  her 
and  said: 

"Something  has  happened,  Goldie.  I  do  not  under- 
stand it;  but  if  you  will  not  return  to  the  house,  at 
feast  you  must  get  into  my  carriage  and  let  me  take 
you  home.  You  are  not  fit  to  go  thus.  Why,  you 
have  not  even  your  hat  and  cloak  on." 

"Anywhere  but  there,"  sfte  panted.  "Take  me  home. 
Do  not  stop  for  anything,  but  take  me  if  you  will  not 
fet  me  go  as  I  am." 

He  handed  her  into  the  carriage  and  followed  her, 
telling  the  driver  where  to  go  to. 

And  when  the  carriage  was  in  motion,  he  took  one 
of  Goldie's  hands  in  his  and  began  to  talk  gently  and 
soothingly  to  her. 

She  did  not  even  know  that  he  held  her  hand;  and 
it  was  some  time  before  she  was  conscious  of  what  he 
was  saying  to  her. 

"You  do  not  hear  me,"  he  said  petulantly. 

In  fact  he  was  annoyed  because  he  had  been  ap- 
proaching the  subject  of  his  expectations  in  regard 
to  her,  and  had  been  at  first  flattered  by  her  silence. 


96  "         What  Goldie  Saw  and  Heard!. 

"I  beg  your  pardon/'  she  said  dully.  "I  did  not 
know  you  were  talking  to  me/' 

"Tell  me  what  happened  to  make  you  so  disturbed/' 
he  said. 

She  looked  into  his  face  for  a  moment,  and  then 
said  in  a  heavy  voice : 

"I  thought  Donald  Irwin  loved  me,  and  he  doesn't. 
That  is  all/' 

There  was  a  world  of  woe  in  the  simple  words;  but 
Mr.  Selden  was  too  intent  on  his  object  to  give 
much  thought  to  such  matters. 

"Donald  Irwin'/'  he  repeated  with  brutal  frankness, 
"Donald  Irwin  loves  my  daughter  Mildred,  and  will 
marry  her.  He  is  far  too  proud  and  haughty  to  look 
as  low  as  a  factory  girl.  How  could  you  have  got 
such  a  notion  in  your  head?" 

A  wild  laugh  broke  from  her  lips. 

"He  put  it  there.  He  told  me  he  loved  me,  and  I 
believed  it  because  I  loved  him.  What  a  fool  I  was !" 

"It  was  wrong  of  Donald  to  do  that,  but  he  always 
was  wild  in  that  way.  You  see  those  Southerners  do 
not  look  at  labor  as  we  of  the  North  do." 

"Why  did  he  "not  let  me  die?"  she  moaned. 

"You  are  far  too  beautiful  to  die.  Goldie,  would 
you  be  revenged  on  him  for  such  a  slight?" 

"I  wish  no  revenge.  I  would  not  injure  him  if  I 
do  it  by*a  turn  of  the  wrist." 


What  Goldie  Saw  and  Heard.  97 

"Do  you  wish  him  to  know  that  your  heart  is 
broken?" 

"Why  should  it  matter  to  me  ?"  she  wailed. 

"Will  you  let  him  tell  at  the  club  how  he  fooled 
you  and  broke  your  heart  ?" 

"Would  he  do  that?" 

"Of  course  he  would." 

"Then  he  is  more  despicable  than  I  believed.  Would 
he  really  do  it?" 

"If  you  let  him  know  that  your  heart  is  broken  be- 
cause you  discovered  that  h£  did  not  mean  to  wed  you. 
May  I  advise  you?" 

"I  have  no  friends.  What  do  you  advise  ?  For  my 
own  part,  I  wish  it  was  all  over." 

"What  you  should  do  is  to  prove  your  ability  to  rise 
above  his  deceit  by  wedding  some  man  as  good  as 
he."  .,-,._^.4,,  ,,.,  -  ui*Id 

"How?    I  do  not  understand/* 

"Bwflv  r^i' 

"Marry  me,  little  Goldie !  I  will  make  you  happier 
than  he  could  have  done.  When  Mildred  is  his  wife 
you  shall  be  mistress  of  my  house,  with  money  and 
servants  at  your  command.  Will  you  marry  me, 
Goldie?" 

She  stared  at  him  in  wonder.  Then  the  blood! 
seemed  to  rush  to  her  head,  and  all  she  remembered 
was  that  she  put  her  hand  in  his,  and  said ; 

"I  will  be  your  wife,  but  I  shail  always  love  him/' 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A     STRANGE     WEDDING. 

A  suspicion  of  the  truth  in  regard  to  Goldie  flashed 
into  the  mind  of  Mr.  Selden.  He  saw  that  she  was 
almost  crazed  by  her  terrible  grief,  and  that  she  hardly 
knew  what  she  was  doing. 

She  had  said  she  would  marry  him,  but  when  the 
sun  of  another  day  arose  would  she  remember  what 
she  had  said,  and  act  on  it? 

Mr.  Selden  had  conceived  a  violent  passion  for  the 
beautiful  girl,  and  he  recalled  as  he  sat  by  her  side 
in  the  carriage  how  desperate  he  had  felt  when  he 
was  told  that  she  and  Donald  were  lovers. 

"She  shall  wed  me  now,"  he  thought  to  himself. 
"She  is  in  a  mood  to  do  anything  I  ask." 

The  carriage  rumbled  on,  and  Goldie  sat  staring 
fixedly  before  her.  Mr.  Selden,  who  still  held  hen 
passive  hand,  said  softly: 

"Goldie,  dear!    Goldie !  are  you  listening  to  me?" 

"Yes,  I  am  listening." 

It  seemed  that  she  was,  but  it  was  hard  to  believe 
that  she  heard  and  comprehended. 

"I  wish  to  have  you  do  something." 

"I  wish  only  to  be  let  alone/'  she  answered  dully. 


A  Strange  Wedding.  99 

"If  you  will  do  what  I  ask  there  will  be  no  one  to 
trouble  you,  Goldie." 

"I  will  do  anything  you  wish  me  to." 

"I  was  thinking  what  a  triumph  over  Donald  it 
would  be  to  go  to  a  clergyman  now  and  have  him 
marry  us." 

She  turned  her  head  slowly  and  looked  at  him. 

"Why  won't  you  believe  me?  I  don't  wish  to 
triumph  over  him." 

"Will  you  marry  me  to  please  me,  then?"  he  asked 
desperately. 

"I  will  do  anything  you  wish." 

He  was  afraid  her  mind  was  unhinged,  and  he 
looked  anxiously  at  her.  She  was  dull  and  staring, 
but  otherwise  seemed  herself. 

Mr,  Selden  instructed  the  coachman  to  drive  to  an 
address  which  he  gave  him,  and  when  the  carriage 
stopped  he  said: 

"We  are  here,  Goldie." 

"Where?" 

"At  the  clergyman's,  where  we  are  to  be  married." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  as  if  trying  to 
comprehend,  and  then  said  abruptly: 

"Very  well." 

She  seemed  a  strange  figure  for  the  bride  of  Mr. 
Selden,  the  millionaire,  but  when  the  clergyman 


ioo  A  Strange  Wedding. 

opened  his  eyes  in  surprise  and  looked  askance  at  her, 
Mr.  Selden  said  sharply: 

"There  is  nothing  wrong  about  this.  Miss  Mow- 
bray  is  in  some  distress  of  mind  and  came  away  with- 
out her  wraps.  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  marry 
us?" 

The  clergyman  knew  Mr.  Selden  well,  and  there- 
fore did  not  hesitate,  however  odd  it  seemed  to  him 
to  marry  him  to  a  bride  of  such  singular  beauty,  but 
in  a  shabby  gown,  hatless  and  coatless. 

He  asked  Goldie  the  usual  questions  about  her  age, 
her  parents,  her  guardians  and  her  readiness  to  marry 
Mr.  Selden. 

She  answered  rationally  enough,  but  in  a  dull,  unin- 
terested way  that  was  painful  to  see  in  one  so  young. 

Then  the  clergyman  called  his  wife  and  daughter  in, 
and  had  them  act  as  witnesses,  while  he  joined  the 
strangely  assorted  couple  in  the  bonds  of  matrimony. 

It  was  an  impressive  ceremony  from  its  singularity, 
and  ever  afterward  the  members  of  the  clergyman's 
family  spoke  of  it  with  wonder  and  awe. 

But  it  was  only  among  themselves  that  they  ever  did 
so,  for  when  the  ceremony  was  concluded,  Mr.  Selden 
'drew  out  a  roll  of  bills  and  gave  the  most  liberal  fee 
the  clergyman  ever  had  had. 

"Send  a  notice  to  the  papers,"  Mr.   Selden  whis- 


A  Strange  Wedding.  101 

pered,  "but  do  not  gossip  about  the  details  of  this 
wedding/' 

The  clergyman's  daughter  went  up  to  Goldie,  whose 
wonderful  beauty  attracted  her,  and  pressed  a  kiss  on 
her  cheek. 

Goldie  accepted  the  caress  and  the  murmured  con- 
gratulation with  cold  indifference  that  made  the  girl 
think  more  of  a  dead  person  than  a  living  one. 

"Come,  dear/'  Mr.  Selden  said,  holding  out  his 
hand  to  her. 

She  put  her  little  hand  in  his,  and  was  going  out 
when  the  clergyman  said  politely: 

"Good  evening,  Mrs.   Selden!" 

Then  she  stopped  and  stared  at  him  with  a  puzzled 
frown. 

"Is  that  my  name  now?"  she  asked  of  her  husband. 

"Yes,  of  course/'  he  stammered.  "Come,  dear,  we 
will  go  home  now." 

She  made  no  opposition,  and  offered  no  comment 
afterward  when  they  were  in  the  carriage,  and  he  called 
her  all  the  endearing  names  he  could  think  of. 

But  when  he  tried  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  she 
stopped  him  with  a  shudder,  which  showed  that  she 
had  not  become  entirely  numbed. 

"Please  do  not,"  she  said. 

He  desisted,  ready  to  humor  her  in  everything. But 


102  A  Strange  Wedding. 

he  was  disturbed  by  her  condition,  and  tried  to  rouse 
her  from  it. 

''Do  you  know  where  we  are  going?"  he  asked  her. 

"Home," 

''My 'home,  you  know,"  he  said.  "You  will  be  mis- 
tress there  now." 

She  made  him  no  answer,  and  he  ventured : 

"We  shall  see  Donald  and  Mildred  there." 

She  shuddered,  but  that  was  the  only  way  by  which 
he  knew  she  had  heard  him. 

He  was  prepared  for  almost  any  scene  when  the 
house  was  reached.  He  knew  it  would  be  almost  din- 
ner-time when  they  got  to  the  -house,  and  he  wondered 
how  to  proceed  to  have  the  least  excitement. 

He  could  think  of  no  way,  but  to  go  at  once  into  the 
library  with  his  bride,  and  send  word  by  a  servant  that 
he  wished  Donald  and  Mildred  to  join  him  there. 

Goldie  followed  him  passively  into  the  house,  and 
past  the  gaping  servant,  toward  the  library. 

"Where  are  Miss  Mildred  and  Mr.  Irwin  ?"  Mr.  Sel- 
den  asked. 

"In  the  library,  sir." 

They  had  not  separated  yet,  but  had  remained  in 
desultory  conversation  since  the  departure  of  Goldie. 

Mr.  Selden  placed  the  little  hand  of  Goldie  within 
his  arm  and  walked  with  her  thus  into  the  library,  his 
head  erect,  and  his  whole  manner  declaring  that  he 


A  Strange  Wedding. 

was  prepared  to  maintain  his  rights  and  those  of  his 
wife  in  the  face  of  any  and  everything1. 

Mildred  and  Donald  had  heard  the  door  open,  and 
had  heard  his  voice,  so  they  were  prepared  for  his 
coming;  but  when  they  looked  around  and  saw  who 
was  on  his  arm,  they  both  started. 

Mildred  came  nearer  to  the  truth  in  her  gttess  than 
Donald  did,  but  even  she  was  not  prepared  to  hear 
the  truth  when  it  came. 

Donald  had  a  singular  mingling  of  emotions.  His 
first  was  one  of  fear  of  the  consequences  of  such  a 
meeting;  his  next,  one  of  almost  eager  hope  that  some- 
how he  Would  be  extricated  from  a  position  which 
grew  more  and  more  intolerable  to  him  every  moment. 

"Goldie!"  broke  from  his  lips  almost  before  he 
knew  what  he  was  saying,  and  he  could  feel  his  heart 
begin  to  throb  with  the  same  passion  which  had  carried 
him  so  far  the  previous  evening. 

Mildred  only  looked  and  waited,  on  guard  against 
any  surprise. 

Mr.  Selden  gazed  at  them  both  for  a  moment,  and 
then,  with  a  courtly  air,  presented  Goldie. 

"Mildred!  Mr.  Irwin!  let  me  present  my  wife  to 
you." 

"Your  wife!"  came  in  a  gasping  cry  from  both  pair 
of  lips. 

"My  wife.    We  were  married  this  evening.    It  was 


JO4  A  Strange  Wedding. 

more  informal  than  I  would  have  wished ;  but  it  seemed 
best." 

"Goldie!"  again  came  from  the  dry,  parched  lips 
of  Donald. 

If  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  at  his  feet  he  could  not 
have  been  more  startled.  Her  lips  did  not  open,  but 
her  eyes  dwelt  on  his  face  with  a  look  he  could  not 
comprehend. 

But  this  at  last  he  did  know :  that  he  had  lost  what 
^  was  the  dearest  thing  in  all  the  world  to  him.  He 
knew  now  that  he  had  loved  her  well  enough  to  break 
down  even  the  stubborn  barriers  of  his  pride. 

And  it  was  too  late.  He  had  lost  her!  She  was 
the  bride  of  that  old  man,  who  had  bought  her.  His 
unreasonable  anger  flamed  up  as  he  thought  of  it. 

"Why  did  you  marry  him,  Goldie?"  he  demanded 
fiercely. 

It  was  Mr.  Selden  who  answered  him.  On  her  face 
there  was  nothing  but  such  a  look  of  agony  as  Donald 
never  forgot. 

"By  what  right  do  you  address  such  a  question  to 
my  wife?" 

The  demand  brought  Donald  to  his  senses,  but  did 
not  check  his  anger.  He  turned  wrath  fully  on  his 
host  and  cried  out : 

"How  can  I  help  asking  it  of  her!    She  knows  what 


A  Strange  Wedding.  105 

right  I  have  to  put  it  if  you  do  not.  And  I  ask  it 
again :  Why  did  you  marry  him?" 

Golclie  raised  her  hand  and  pointed  at  Mildred. 

'There  is  your  affianced  wife.  Me  you  deceived — 
basely,  cruelly.  It  was  infamous  to  awake  within  me 
such  a  love  only  to  murder  it.  How  dared  you  trifle 
with  me  so?  Why  did  I  wed  him?  I  do  not  know. 
Please  God  it  is  the  beginning  of  the  end." 

There  was  something  terrible  in  her  calmness,  for  it 
was  the  calmness  of  utter  despair  and  woe.  Life  was 
a  useless  thing  to  her  henceforth. 

And  Donald  saw  that  he  had  lost  everything ;  he 
saw  that  she  had  discovered  his  seeming  double-deal- 
ing, and  had  given  up  with  broken  heart. 

"Goldie!  Goldie!"  he  cried  in  his  anguish,  "heat 
me!" 

But  she  raised  her  little  hand  and  passed  from  the 
room. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A    DESPERATE    WOMAN. 

Mr.  Selden  followed  Goldie  with  a  parting  gesture 
of  anger  at  Donald.  And  the  betrothed  pair  was  alone 
again. 

Donald  started,  however,  to  follow  Goldie,  as  if  he 
could  not  make  up-  his  mind  to  give  her  up.  Mildred 
put  her  hand  on  his  arm,  saying: 

"Let  them  go !  she  has  been  angling  for  papa  for  a 
good  while,  and  has  won  him  at  last." 

He  turned  his  burning  gaze  on  her,  and  cried  furi- 
ously : 

"It  is  false !  She  cares  nothing  for  him.  She  is  my; 
love — my  Heaven-sent  love,  whom  I  was  insane 
enough  to  turn  from.  I  love  her;  do  you  understand! 
me  ?  I  do  not  love  you,  but  only  her.  And  she  loves 
me.  The  marriage  is  a  sacrilege.  Oh!  it  cannot  be 
that  I  have  lost  her." 

"Donald!"  pleaded  Mildred,  placing  her  hand  on 
his  arm. 

He  shook  her  hand  off.  Yet  he  saw  it  was  useless 
to  make  a  scene.  It  was  too  late  to  remedy  what  had 
been  done,  and  he  could  only  curse  himself. 

"Donald,  dear!"  Mildred  said  again,  her  voice  full 
of  pleading. 


A  Desperate  Woman.  107 

He  turned  and  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  as  if  he 

x. 
would  first  collect  his  senses.     Then  he  spoke : 

"Mildred,  I  have  been  a  base  wretch  and  a  fool — * 
worse  than  a  fool.  I  met  Goldie,  and  fate  was  working 
a  miracle.  We  loved  each  other  as  it  is  seldom  the 
case.  We  loved  at  once.  But  I  was  filled  with  a  fool- 
ish pride  that  said  she  was  only  a  working  girl,  and 
not  a  fit  mate  for  me." 

"She  is  not  fit,  Donald." 

"Not  fit?  Only  because  she  is  too  good  for  such  as 
I.  I  turned  from  her,  though  it  broke  my  heart  to 
do  it,  and  in  a  moment  of  madness  I  asked  you  to 
be  my  wife.  Mildred,  I  can  never  wed  you.  I 
should  hate  you  if  I  did  make  you  my  wife.  I  shall 
bid  you  farewell  forever,  now." 

"No,  no,  Donald !  Do  not  go  from  me,  dear.  I  love 
you,  and  it  is  right  that  you  should  wed  me  now.  Seef 
here  is  the  ring  you  gave  me.  It  is  a  pledge  of  your 
readiness  to  make  me  your  wife." 

"Would  you  have  me  hate  you?"  he  asked  fiercely. 

"You  would  not  hate  me.  I  would  teach  you  to 
love  me.  Such  a  love  as  mine  always  wins  a  return. 
Donald,  do  not  break  my  heart." 

"I  will  not  wed  you.    I  would  not  dare.    Farewell." 

She  caught  him  by  the  arm,  but  he  shook  off  her 
hand,  seized  his  hat  and  coat  and  hurried  from  the 
house. 


io8  A  Desperate  Woman. 

"He  is  gone  forever!"  Mildred  wailed. 

Then  fury  took  possession  of  her,  and  she  shook  her 
clinched  hands  at  the  ceiling,  hissing : 

"It  is  your  fault!  But  you  shall  not  live  to  tri- 
umph over  me.  I  will  end  your  life!" 

Up  to  her  own  apartments  the  infuriated  and  reck- 
less girl  flew.  She  locked  herself  in,  and  began  to 
hunt  through  the  drawers  of  her  desk  until  she  had 
found  a  small  key,  with  which  she  ran  to  a  closet. 

From  the  upper  shelf  she  took  down  a  small  ebony 
casket,  which  she  opened  by  the  key  she  had  in  her 
hand. 

Three  tiny  vials  lay  in  a  nest  of  silk  within  the 
casket.  She  took  them  up  in  turn  and  looked  at  the 
numbers  which  distinguished  them  from  each  other. 

She  hesitated  between  them  for  a  while,  but  selected 
one  at  last  and  put  the  others  away,  muttering : 

"This  will  arouse  the  least  suspicion.  It  will  seem 
so  like  apoplexy  that  no  physician  will  doubt." 

Her  face  was  pale  as  she  spoke,  but  her  hand  did  not 
tremble  as  it  held  the  crystal  vial  with  its  terrible 
contents. 

"When  she  is  dead,"  she  went  on,  "he  will  return 
to  me.  Now  let  me  go  down  and  wait  for  the  happy 
pair." 

She  sneered  bitterly  as  she  spoke,  and  her  heart  was 
.wrung  with  disappointment  and  rage.  She  waited  ia 


A  Desperate  Woman.  109 

the  drawing-room  until  she  was  joined  by  her  father, 
who  came  down  alone. 

"Where  is  Goldie,  my  lovely  stepmother?" 

"She  is  indisposed/'  was  the  curt  response.  uShe 
will  not  be  down  to  dinner." 

Mildred  bit  her  lip  to  hide  her  disappointment, 

"She  begins  to  play  the  fine  lady  at  once,"  she 
sneered. 

Her  father  turned  upon  her. 

"Don't  make  any  mistake,  Mildred !  She  shall  play; 
the  fine  lady  if  she  wishes.  She  is  mistress  here." 

"Don't  be  cross!  I  am  willing  she  should  be  mis- 
tress. I  shall  not  dispute  the  title  with  her." 

"How  soon  will  you  be  married?"  he  asked. 

Her  face  became  convulsed. 

"Donald  has  left  me.  He  said  he  would  never  marry 
me.  Never  mind  him.  Let  us  go  to  dinner.  Will 
Goldie  have  something  sent  up  to  her?" 

"I  will  take  something  up  when  I  go.  She  said  she 
would  eat  nothing." 

Mildred  set  her  jaws. 

"Well,  she  must  not  get  sick  right  away.  Don't 
think  I  bear  her  any  ill-will.  You  did 'what  you  could 
to  help  me.  It  is  my  own  fault  if  my  plans  miscarried. 
I  am  glad  if  you  have  succeeded.  When  we  are 
through  dinner,  I  will  fix  her  up  a  dainty  meal.  You 
need  not  tell  her  I  did  it,  and  she  may  eat  it." 


no  A  Desperate  Woman. 

Mr.  Selden  thanked  her  gratefully.  He  was  touched1 
by  kindness  in  a  quarter  whence  he  had  looked  only  for 
harshness. 

"Perhaps,"  he  said,  "your  affair  will  turn  out  bet- 
ter than  you  think.  I  will  do  anything  I  can/' 

"Thank  you.  I  don't  believe  there  is  anything  to  be 
done  yet.  Perhaps  with  time  it  will  be  different." 

"Time  is  good  medicine  for  many  ills,"  he  assented; 
and  they  went  together  to  the  dining  room. 

Very  little  was  said  during  the  meal.  When  it  was 
over  Mildred  told  the  servants  what  to  bring  her,  and 
with  her  own  hands  she  arranged  a  dainty  trayful  of 
tempting  dishes. 

"I  suppose  she  is  feeling  very  melancholy,"  Mildred 
said  to  her  father. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  yes." 

"Why  not  send  her  up  a  glass  of  sherry?  It  will 
do  her  good  if  her  nerves  are  unstrung." 

"Thank  you  very  much,  Mildred!  I  shall  not  forget 
your  kindness.  Where  is  the  sherry?  Oh!  there  it 
is!  Let  me  get  it  for  you." 

He  brought  her  the  decanter  and  she  prepared  to 
pour  out  a  glassful. 

"Oh,  by  the  way!"  she  exclaimed,  as  if  remember- 
ing something,  "will  you  get  that  salt-cellar?" 

He  turn^i  his  back  for  a  moment,  and  quick  as 


A  Desperate  Woman.  in 

thought  she  had  poured  half  the  contents  of  the  vial 
into  the  glass. 

Mildred  poured  the  wine  out,  and  her  hand  shook  as 
she  did  so,  but  she  spilled  none. 

"The  tray  is  ready,  papa/'  she  said.  "I  hope  Goldie 
will  not  be  ill  for  long.  If  you  think  she  will  receive  it 
from  me,  tell  her  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  her  down 
again." 

"I  will  tell  her  how  kind  you  have  been,  and  that 
will  dispose  her  to  forgive  you  anything.  She  is  a 
gentle  little  thing." 

"And  very  beautiful,  too,"  said  Mildred. 

"Yes,  even  now.  When  she  is  well,  and  has  some 
new  clothes,  will  she  not  be  a  queen  in  society?  I 
wonder  what  the  comments  will  be?" 

Mildred  smiled  nervously. 

"I  suppose  the  men  will  envy  you,  and  the  women 
are  sure  to  envy  her.  In  that  case  you  will  both  be 
abused." 

He  smiled  and  left  the  room.  Mildred  turned  and 
grasped  the  mantel  for  support. 

"Within  the  hour !"  she  murmured,  and  glided  from 
the  room,  and  sought  refuge  in  her  own  apartments. 

There  she  waited  with  ghastly  face  and  trembling 
limbs,  muttering  now  and  again: 

"Why  did  she  cross  my  path?" 


H2  A  Desperate  Woman. 

Suddenly  a  moaning  cry  came  from  her  father's 
apartments,  and  she  started  up  with  convulsed  face. 

The  cry  was  followed  by  a  strange,  horrid  call  fof 
help,  and  then  there  was  a  sound  of  something  falling. 

Beads  of  cold  perspiration  stood  on  the  white  fore- 
head of  Mildred.  She  wiped  them  away  and  rushed 
out  into  the  hall. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A    WIDOWED    BRIDE. 

It  is  not  venturing  too  much  to  say  that  Goldie  was 
'  unaware  of  half  of  what  she  was  doing  that  terrible 
night.  The  knowledge  of  the  unfaithfulness  of  the 
man  she  had  given  her  heart  to  had  not  driven  her 
mad,  but  had  unquestionably  thrown  her  into  a  state 
wherein  she  was  conscious  only  of  the  desire  to  rid 
herself  of  the  terrible  pain  in  her  heart. 

She  was  not  her  own  mistress  in  one  sense,  although 
she  knew  that  she  was  doing  things  that  were  horrible 
to  her.  Something  told  her  that  she  could  punish 
Donald  by  wedding  Mr.  Selden,  and  with  passionate 
fcaste  sHe  did  that  thing. 

[  Then  she  had  confronted  her  recreant  lover,  and 
without  knowing  it,  she  had  made  him  see  into  his 
own  heart,  and  he  had  realized  his  loss  in  the  very  mo- 
ment of  discovering  his  true  nature. 

She  had  driven  him  away  with  a  heart  no  less  sore 
and  battered  than  her  own,  and  had  then  flown  to  the 
privacy  of  the  room  to  which  her  aged  husband  had 
conducted  her. 

She  had  thrown  herself  on  a  couch,  and  it  had 
seemed  to  her  that  if  she  were  not  left  to  her  own 
thoughts  she  would  surely  go  mad. 


H4  A  Widowed  Bride. 

Though  when  she  reflected  on  the  wreck  of  her  hap- 
piness, she  wished  that  death,  not  madness,  might  be 
her  portion. 

She  wondered  how  Heaven  could  have  permitted 
such  a  thing,  but  there  was  something  in  her  heart 
which  would  not  let  her  curse  the  man  who  had  stolen 
from  her  her  happiness,  but  it  was  impossible  for 
her  to  doubt  that  he  was  as  guilty  as  the  wily  Mildred 
had  assured  her. 

Then  she  thought  of  her  marriage.  What  a  hideous 
mockery  it  was. 

She  had  promised  things  which  she  could  never  do. 
She  hardly  knew  the  man  whose  name  she  had  taken. 

She  leaped  wildly  to  her  feet  as  she  thought  of  this, 
and  at  that  moment  if  Mildred  had  come  to  her  with 
the  glass  of  poisoned  wine,  and  had  told  her  the  nature 
of  its  contents,  she  would  have  snatched  it  eagerly 
from  her  hand,  that  she  might  drain  it  to  the  dregs, 
and  so  rid  her  consciousness  of  the  awful  fact  that 
she  had  lost  her  love,  and  had  given  herself  to  one 
she  could  never  look  upon  but  with  a  shudder  of  hor- 
ror. 

What  did  it  matter  to  her  if  her  husband  was  ever 
so  good  and  noble  a  man?  He  might  be  the  best  man 
in  the  world,  and  yet  she  must  in  time  hate  him. 

She  clasped  her  hands  together  and  stared  up  at! 
heaven  as  if  silently  praying  for  guidance.  Then  a 


A  Widowed  Bride  115 

moan  broke   from  her  lips  as   if   she   had  suddenly 
realized  that  there  could  come  no  help  to  her. 

Then  the  thought  of  flight  entered  her  brain.  She 
might  fly  from  him  and  go  to  some  far  corner  of  the 
earth  where  he  could  never  find  her.  Perhaps  a 
welcome  death  would  overtake  her  in  the  midst  of  her 
misery.  She  even  thought  of  a  way  of  hastening 
death. 

She  remembered  reading  in  the  papers  of  more  than 
one  unfortunate  who  had  found  refuge  in  the  dark  j 
and  flowing  river. 

A  shudder  of  fright  and  horror  ran  over  her  as  she 
thought  of  that,  for  she  remembered  now  that  in  the 
times  when  she  had  read  of  such  poor  creatures,  she 
had  always  said  that  they  must  either  be  mad  or 
wicked. 

Was  she  mad?  Was  she  wicked?  She  asked  her- 
self these  questions,  and  as  she  looked  wildly  up,  she 
caught  a  reflection  of  herself  in  a  mirror. 

The  face  of  woe  and  misery  she  saw,  made  her 
start  back  with  a  cry  of  terror,  and  throw  herself  once 
more  on  the  couch  which  she  had  quitted. 

And  there  she  lay  when  Mr.  Selden  returned  to  her 
to  offer  her  some  food,  which  he  was  sure  she  needed. 

He  was  sorry  for  her,  and  was  quite  ready  to  cham- 
pion her  against  his  daughter,  now  that  he  was  wedded 


fe- 

116  A  Widowed  Bride. 

co  her.  But  it  was  utterly  impossible  for  him  to  under- 
stand how  she  felt. 

It  was  true  that  she  had  lost  a  lover,  but  in  his  view 
of  the  matter  she  had  done  better  than  if  she  had 
won  Donald. 

He  had  gained  the  impression  from  Mildred  that 
any  girl  would  be  glad  to  win  a  rich  husband,  and  he 
forgot  that  it  was  possible  for  a  true-hearted  woman 
to  prefer  love  to  wealth. 

So  he  looked  upon  Goldie's  grief  as  a  thing  which 
would  soon  pass  away,  and  leave  her  quite  content  as 
nis  bride. 

Another  man,  believing  as  he  did,  might  have  been 
harsh  or  impatient ;  but  Mr.  Selden  had  been  bewitched 
by  the  wondrous  beauty  of  Goldie,  and  had  no  thought 
of  being  anything  but  kind  and  gentle. 

"Goldie,  my  dear,"  he  said  as  he  entered  the  room, 
"I  have  brought  you  some  supper." 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  would  choke  if  she  tried 
to  eat.  She  waved  her  hand  as  if  to  beg  him  to  take 
the  food  away  again. 

"Oh,  come,  my  dear,"  he  said  coaxingly  as  he  went 
over  toward  her,  "at  least  take  a  glass  of  wine.  It  will 
do  you  good." 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  she  murmured,  "I  cannot  eat  or  toucK 
anything." 


A  Widowed  Bride.  117 

"But  you  will  be  ill,"  he  protested. 

"No,  no;  I  could  not  eat  anything." 

"And  you  will  not  drink  the  wine — for  my  sake, 
Goldie?" 

"I  could  not  touch  it,"  she  moaned. 

She  did  not  even  turn  toward  him  as  she  spoke  It 
seemed  to  her  that  she  must  hate  him  if  she  looked 
at  him. 

Her  heart  told  her  that  it  would  be  most  unjust  to 
have  any  but  kindly  feelings  toward  him ;  but  she  could 
not  get  rid  of  the  idea,  which  had  flashed  into  her 
brain  as  she  lay  there,  that  he  had  taken  advantage  of 
her  misery  to  get  her  to  wed  him. 

"Come !"  he  said,  drawing  a  little  table  over  toward 
the  couch,  "we  will  eat  together/' 

He  hoped  to  induce  her  to  eat  by  pretending  to  share 
her  meal  with  her;  he  busied  himself  with  making  the 
array  of  dainty  viands  look  more  tempting,  saying  to 
her: 

"You  will  be  sick,  Goldie,  if  you  do  not  eat.  Come, 
we  will  have  our  dinner  together.  Do  not  grieve  so 
Over  that  false  wretch." 

"You  need  not  speak  ill  of  him!"  she  cried  with  sud- 
Hen  passion. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  at  this  unexpected  out- 
burst. 


n8  A  Widowed  Bride. 

"I  will  say  nothing  of  him  if  you  prefer,"  he  said; 
"but  do  sit  up  and  take  a  bite." 

"I  do  not  wish  to." 

"The  glass  of  wine,  then.  See !  it  looks  very  tempt- 
ing, and  will  help  you  to  be  brave  and  not  let  anyone 
see  that  you  are  prostrated." 

He  thought  to  affect  her  by  an  appeal  to  her  pride, 
but  it  did  not  act  as  he  had  hoped. 

"I  will  not  drink  the  wine,"  she  said.  "I  do  not 
wish  to  be  brave.  I  want  to  die." 

He  was  sure  now  that  it  was  useless  to  attempt  to 
induce  her  to  eat,  and  he  reluctantly  removed  the  tray 
from  beside  her  and  placed  it  on  a  table  at  the  other 
end  of  the  room. 

He  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do,  and  began  to  pace  the 
floor  uneasily,  wondering  what  he  could  say  or  do 
that  would  rouse  her. 

His  eyes  fell  on  the  glass  of  wine  and  he  reached  out 
his  hand  to  take  it.  He  was  not  thirsty;  he  was  not 
in  need  of  any  stimulant.  It  was  there,  and  he  was 
perplexed. 

Perhaps  he  thought  it  would  stimulate  his  faculties 
to  drink  the  wine.  He  took  up  the  glass  and  raised  it 
to  his  lips. 

"Won't  Vou  drink  the  wine,  Goldie?"  he  pleaded. 

"No,  it  would  make  me  sick.  The  thought  of  in 
makes  me  sick,"  she  answered  impatiently. 


A  Widowed  Bride.  119 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  She  would  not  drink 
* — he  would.  He  placed  the  poisoned  liquor  to  his 
lips  and  slowly  drained  it. 

But  not  so  slowly  as  to  notice  any  peculiarity  in  its 
flavor. 

Not  until  it  was  down  his  throat,  and  already  the 
fatal  draught  was  beginning  to  do  its  fell  work,  did 
he  realize  that  something  was  wrong  with  it. 

Then  there  was  a  moment  of  agony,  when  his  eyes 
seemed 'to  start  suddenly  from  his  head,  while  the 
turgid  blood  filled  his  face. 

"Gol — Goldie!"  he  gasped. 

There  was  a  note  of  agony  in  his  tone  that  made 
her  start  up  and  look  at  him. 

He  was  clutching  at  his  throat  and  trying  vainly  to 
articulate  more  words.  She  leaped  in  affright  from 
the  couch  and  ran  to  him. 

He  staggered  and  reeled,  hideous  noises  issuing 
'from  his  throat  as  if  a  band  of  steel  had  constricted  it. 

She  reached  his  side  too  late  to  catch  him,  even  if 
her  strength  had  been  sufficient  to  enable  her  to  uphold 
him. 

He  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  helpless  thud,  which  told 
her  that  his  senses  had  fled. 

She  leaned  over  him  with  a  sense  of  helplessness 
that  made  her  scream  out  for  help  first,  ere  leaning 
ii>ver  him  to  murmur: 


12O  A  Widowed  Bride. 

"What  is  the  matter  ?  Oh !  can  you  not  speak  ?  He 
is  dead!" 

The  final  words  burst  from  her  with  a  wail  of  terror, 
and  she  gazed  into  his  distorted,  empurpled  face  with 
all  the  horror  of  one  who  for  the  first  time  looks 
upon  sudden  death. 

Her  hand  lay  on  his  heart,  and  her  frozen  stare  was 
on  his  face  when  the  door  was  thrown  suddenly  open, 
and  Mildred  burst  in,  such  an  expression  on  her  face 
as  terrified  Goldie  more  even  than  the  look  that  was 
on  the  features  of  the  stricken  man. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

GOLD  IE    IS    ACCUSED.    -    , 

There  had  been  a  first  spasm  of  terror  at  the  sound 
of  the  body  of  her  victim  falling;  but  the  next  moment 
the  wicked  soul  of  the  would-be  murderess  was  filled! 
with  a  hideous  joy  at  the  thought  that  Goldie  was  no 
longer  standing  between  her  and  the  man  she  wor- 
shiped so  insanely. 

She  had  flown  up  the  stairs,  composing  her  face  td 
one  of  surprise,  intending  to  ask  her  father  the  mean- 
ing of  the  wild  scream  and  the  noise. 

But  when  she  had  opened  the  door  and  looked  in  at  I 
the  form  of  her  father  prone  upon  the  floor,  with! 
Goldie   by   his    side,    the    horror    of    what    she    haci 
done  seemed  to  overwhelm  her. 

She  gave  vent  to  a  horrid  scream,  and  staggeredl 
back  out  of  the  room.  Then,  as  with  starting  eyes,  she 
looked  still  at  the  awful  spectacle,  she  uttered  scream 
on  scream,  bringing  the  servants  to  her  from  all  parts 
of  the  house. 

"Miss  Mildred!  what  is  the  matter?"  one  and  an- 
other cried. 

Through  the  open  door  they  all  saw  the  body  of  Mr. 
Seldcn,  with  Goldie  kneeling  by  his  side,  stiff  with  hor- 
ror. 


12  3  Goldie  is  Accused. 

One  after  another  they  flocked  in  and  stared  at 
him.  The  story  of  his  marriage  to  the  factory  girl 
was  known  to  them  all  in  some  way,  and  the  unspoken 
wonder  was  if  the  wedding  and  the  death  had  aught  to 
do  with  each  other. 

The  servants  did  not  feel  the  same  awe  of  question- 
ing her  that  they  .would  in  subjecting  their  haughty 
young  mistress  to  their  eager,  startled  queries. 

So,  while  the  men  picked  up  the  still  fonn,  the 
women  clustered  around  the  white-faced  bride  and 
asked  her  how  it  had  happened. 

"Send  for  a  doctor  !"~were  the  first  words  she  spoke; 
and  her  command  was  acted  on  at  once. 

Mildred,  aroused  to  a  sense  of  what  she  had  done, 
stared  wildly  into  the  "room. 

Her  first  thought  was  that  everybody  would  know 
that  she  had  sent  the  wine  up  and  would  accuse  her  of 
murder. 

With  that  thought  came  the  fear  of  the  con- 
sequences; and  that  fear  overmastered  every  othetf 
idea.  At  any  cost  she  must  escape  the  toils  of  the  law. 

Choking  down  the  inclination  to  cry  out  that  she 
had  never  intended  to  kill  her  father,  she  staggered 
'forward  with  ghastly  face,  and  entered  the  room. 

She  could  not  go  near  where  her  father  lay,  but 
turned  her  back  upon  his  body  with  a  shudder  and 
snatched  the  glass  from  the  tray. 


Goldie  is  Accused.  123 

She  was  a  girl  who  had  never  given  her  parent  any 
great  love ;  but  the  thought  of  what  she  had  done  was 
awful  to  her. 

Nevertheless,  she  must  fight  down  her  remorse  and 
fasten  the  blame  on  some  one  else,  so  that  no  suspicion 
should  fall  on  her. 

Every  eye  turned  on  her  as  she  tottered  in  and  took 
the  glass.  It  was  not  easy  for  her  to  steady  her  nerves 
for  what  she  was  about  to  do,  but  by  a  mighty  effort 
she  did  so,  and  cried  huskily  as  she  pointed  with  a 
shaking  finger  at  Goldie. 

"Was  it  you  drank  from  this  glass  ?" 

"No,"  Goldie  answered  in  a  startled  tone,  "I  did 
not  touch  it." 

"Do  you  hear  her?"  Mildred  almost  screamed.  "She 
says  she  did  not  touch  it.  Then  my  dear,  dear  papa 
must  have  done  so." 

An  assenting  murmur  passed  over  the  group  of  star- 
ing servants,  who  understood  immediately  that  there 
wrfs  to  be  some  startling  denouement. 

Mildred  had  started  in  on  her  course  of  crime  and 
deceit,  and  she  gathered  strength  and  courage  to  con- 
tinue as  she  saw  that  she  was  creating  the  impression 
she  wished. 

She  looked  around  on  all  the  startled  faces  with  a 
dramatic  air,  shook  the  wineglass  at  Goldie  and  criedl 
out  in  a  voice  of  fierce  anger : 


124  Goldie  is  Accused. 

"If  he  drank  it,  there  lies  the  cause  of  his  death!" 

A  muonur  ran  through  the  assemblage  and  Goldie 
stared;  she  was  conscious  that,  in  some  way,  she  was 
accused,  but  the  whole  horrid  truth  did  not  strike  her. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  murmured. 

"She  asks  what  I  mean?  Look  at  her  guilty  face! 
Oh,  how  could  she  so  treat  one  who  would  have  done 
all  in  his  power  to  make  her  happy  ?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  again  cried  Goldie,  her  face 
growing  whiter  even  than  it  had  already  been. 

"I  mean  that  you  know  full  well  the  cause  of  his 
death." 

"It  is  false!  You  accuse  me  of Oh,  it  is  mon- 
strous !" 

"Do  you  hear?"  screamed  Mildred,  certain  now  that 
suspicion  would  be  effectually  turned  from  her.  "She 
denies  it !  She  is  a  foul  murderess !  Do  not  let  her 
escape/' 

"How  dare  you  ?"  demanded  Goldie,  roused  by  the 
ffearful  accusation  from  her  stupor. 

"She  could  not  wait  for  him  to  die,  old  as  he  was," 
screamed  Mildred,  filled  with  a  hideous  triumph  as 
she  saw  the  belief  in  Goldie's  guilt  pictured  on  the  faces 
of  the  servants. 

"It  is  false!  false!"  cried  Goldie,  a  sudden  fear  that 
|  Mildred  would  be  believed  possessing  her.  "I  knew! 


Goldie  is  Accused.  125 

nothing  of  the  wine  until  he  brought  it  to  me  and 
asked  me  to  drink  it." 

'That  won't  do,  you  know/'  said  one  of  the  men, 
ready  to  curry  favor  with  his  mistress  by  taking  sidef 
openly.    "We  all  know  where  you  come  from.   Factory^ 
girls  marry  millionaires  for  one  purpose — money.    Be  { 
careful  what  you  say,  my  girl !" 

"Yes,  yes!  be  careful  what  you  say!"  echoed  the 
others,  standing  farther  away  from  hen 

"I  tell  you  I  am  innocent,"  Goldie  cried  in  alarm. 
"Why  should  I  wish  him  ill?  He  had  done  nothing 
to  me." 

"As  if  he  had  not  made  you  his  wife,  while  all  you 
cared  for  was  to  be  his  widow.  You  wanted  his  gold/* 
sneered  the  man  who  had  first  spoken. 

"Heaven  is  my  witness,  I  wish  I  had  never  become 
his  wife,"  wailed  Goldie. 

"Run  for  a  policeman!"  said  the  man  to  one  of 
the  servants. 

Goldie  tottered  and  would  have  fallen  but  for  the 
support  of  a  chair,  which  she  caught  by  the  back. 

But,  in  the  very  crisis  of  her  trouble,  her  courage 
came  to  her.  She  had  been  so  steeped  in  woe  that  it 
had  seemed  as  if  she  was  in  no  way  herself.  But  novJ 
she  started  up  with  a  proud  look  in  her  violet  eyes,  and 
gazed  at  Mildred  as  if  she  knew  that  she  was  the  one 
foe  to  face. 


126  Goldie  is  Accused, 

"Why  do  you  accuse  me  so  readily  of  murdering 
him  ?  You  have  no  right  to  do  it.  You  seem  to  know 
far  too  much  of  what  was  in  that  glass." 

Mildred  staggered  back  as  if  struck  a  blow  in  the 
face,  but  recovered  quickly  and  cried  out : 

"And  now  she  accuses  me,  his  own  child !  Oh !  she 
must  be  wicked,  indeed!" 

"Never  mind,  Miss  Mildred,"  said  one  of  the 
women  soothingly.  "It  won't  be  long  before  she  has 
her  deserts,  for  here  comes  an  officer  who  will  take 
her  and  put  her  where  she  will  not  be  able  to  do  harm 
to  anyone." 

Goldie,  with  a  half -suppressed  scream,  stared  at  the 
uniformed  policeman,  who  had  come  hastily  up  the 
stairs  and  was  standing  in  the  doorway. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  her  innocence  would  avail  her 
nothing  when  once  she  was  in  the  clutches  of  the  law. 

She  was  friendless  and  alone  in  the  world ;  and  she 
knew  xhat  the  friendless  and  lonely  received  scant  con- 
sideration in  the  hard  world. 

The  policeman  looked  around  with  the  eye  of  one 
accustomed  to  seeking  for  criminals  in  the  most  un- 
likely places. 

"Well?"  he  demanded  gruffly,  "what  is  the  matter?" 

"Murder,  sir!"  was  the  response  from  one  of  the 
servants. 


Goldie  is  Accused.  127 

Instinctively  he  looked  for  signs  of  blood,  and  as  he 
looked  his  eyes  fell  on  the  body  of  Mr.  Selden,  and  he 

as  by  his  side  in  a  moment. 

"Is  this  the  murdered  man  ?"  he  demanded  sharply. 

"It  is." 

"And  who  killed  him?" 

"I  accuse  her,  his  wife!"  cried  Mildred,  pointing 
1 1  her  finger  at  Goldie. 

The  policeman  looked  at  the  beautiful  face  of  the 
latter,  and  his  eye  quickly  scanned  her  clothing,  so 
unlike  what  the  garments  of  a  millionaire's  wife  should 
be. 

"I. am  innocent,"  cried  Goldiei  "I  call  Heaven  to 
witness  that  I  am  innocent!  It  is  a  terrible  plot  to 


rum  me." 


Mildred  laughed  scornfully,  but  when  the  officer 
sought  to  look  at  her  she  turned  her  head  away,  as 
if  she  were  seeking  for  something. 

"Why  do  you  accuse  this  lady?"  he  asked  sternly. 

Goldie  seemed  to  see  that  he  was  inclined  to  be 
friendly  toward  her,  and  she  ran  to  his  side  and  caught 
his  rough  hand. 

"I  am  innocent,"  she  murmured.  "Indeed  I  am  in- 
nocent !" 

"It  was  to  her  interest  to  have  him  die,"  Mildred 
Said  viciously.  "She  only  married  him  for  his  money, 


ia8  Goldie  is  Accused. 

and  she  hoped  to  have  that  without  him  if  he  were 
dead." 

"But  what  evidence  is  there  of  his  murder  at  all?" 
asked  the  officer.  "It  looks  to  me  as  if  he  had  died  of 
apoplexy." 

Mildred  had  chosen  her  poison  to  thus  mislead  any- 
one, but  now  that  such  a  selection  threatened  to  thwart 
her  plot  to  ruin  Goldie,  she  wished  she  had  taken 
some  other  poison  which  would  have  left  a  clearer 
trace  behind. 

"Here!"  she  cried  triumphantly,  holding  out  the 
wineglass,  "this  is  the  evidence  of  her  guilt.  He  drank 
from  this  wineglass  and  died." 

The  officer  took  the  glass  and  looked  swiftly  from 
one  face  to  the  other. 

"I  will  keep  the  glass,"  he  said,  and  thrust  it  into 
his  pocket. 

"Here  comes  the  doctor!"  some  one  cried. 

"You  people  get  out!"  the  officer  said  to  the  serv- 
ants. "Remain  by  me,  madam,"  he  whispered  to 
Goldie,  whose  beautiful  face  had  won  his  sympathies. 

The  servants  went  grumblingly  out,  feeling  as  if 
they  were  being  defrauded  of  their  rights  in  being 
deprived  of  the  chance  to  be  present  at  the  arrest  of 
the  bride. 

The  doctor  entered  the  room  hastily,  and  with  a 
glance  saw  where  it  was  that  his  services  were  needed. 


Goldie  is  Accused.  129 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  too  late,  doctor,"  the  officer 
said. 

The  doctor  glided  to  the  side  of  the  prostrate  man 
and  bent  silently  over  him  for  a  few  moments. 

"He  is  not  dead  yet/'  he  said. 

With  a  cry  of  joy  Goldie  sped  to  the  side  of  her 
husband  and  caught  his  hand,  though  her  eyes  were 
glued  on  the  face  of  the  physician. 

"Can  you  save  him,  sir?"  she  asked  eagerly. 

The  doctor  shook  his  head. 

"I  fear  not,  but  I  may  revive  him.  I  hope  to  do  so ; 
but  in  these  cases  of  apoplexy  one  never  knows." 

"They  say  it  is  not  apoplexy,  but  poison/'  the  of- 
ficer said  in  a  low  tone. 

"Who  says?  What  kind  of  poison?"  the  physician 
inquired  quickly.  "There  is  but  one  poison  I  know 
that  would  produce  such  an  effect." 

The  officer  drew  out  the  wineglass  and  handed  it 
to  the  doctor. 

f     "The  poison  is  supposed  to  have  been  contained  in 
this." 

The  physician  took  the  glass  hastily  and  smelled 
carefully  of  it.  Then  he  held  it  up  so  that  the  light 
.'from  the  gas-jet  fell  on  it. 

"Yes,"  he  muttered,  "it  is  the  poison.  I  will  do 
,what  I  can,  but  the  case  is  hopeless." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"l    PUT   THE    POISON    THERE!" 

Both  Mildred  and  Goldie  watched  with  breathless 
interest  while  the  physician  worked  over  the  uncon- 
scious man. 

And  when,  after  a  while,  it  became  evident  that  he 
would  be  restored  to  life  for  a  period  at  least,  the 
hearts  of  them  both  throbbed  painfully. 

But  not  from  the  same  cause.  It  was  safety  for  one 
of  them,  and  ruin  for  the  other,  and  when  by  chance 
the  eyes  of  Goldie  met  those  of  Mildred,  each  seemedi 
to  read  the  heart  of  the  other. 

"He  is  coming  to,"  the  doctor  said  in  a  low  tone. 

They  all  leaned  over  him.  Mildred  glided  to  the 
side  of  Goldie,  and  hissed  fiercely: 

"He  was  nothing  to  you;  let  me  be  nearest  him 
when  he  opens  his  eyes." 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  must  be  there  to  stop  the 
condemnatory  words  she  could  almost  hear  falling 
from  his  lips. 

But  the  officer  put  her  aside  with  a  motion  of  his 
strong  hand. 

"It  is  the  wife's  place,"  he  said. 

"Is  it  the  assassin's  place,  too?"  demanded  Mildred. 


"I  Put  the  Poison  There!"  131 


Ere  any  answer  could  be  given  Mr.  Selden's  eyes 
opened  and  rested  immediately  on  the  face  of  Goldie. 

Both  the  physician  and  the  officer  were  struck  by 
the  look  of  affection  and  anxiety  that  were  instantly 
in  the  sick  man's  eyes. 

Then  they  saw  his  eyes  wander  past  them  to  some- 
thing else,  which  a  swift  glance  told  them  was  the 
face  of  his  child,  and  they  saw  the  utmost  horror  in 
them  then. 

"Can  you  speak  ?"  the  officer  asked  quickly. 

Mildred  leaned  forward  eagerly.  The  poisoned  man 
made  a  terrible  effort  to  reply,  but  without  avail.  A 
look  of  triumph  and  relief  passed  over  the  dark  face 
of  Mildred. 

The  physician,  who  had  been  watching  him  witli 
careful  scrutiny,  placed  a  few  drops  of  some  powerful 
drug  on  the  livid  lips. 

The  subtle  liquid  trickled  into  the  patient's  mouth, 
and  in  a  moment  a  decided  change  was  visible  in  his 
expression. 

Again  he  essayed  to  move  his  lips,  and  this  time  he 
succeeded,  although  no  sound  issued  from  between 
them. 

"Give  him  a  few  more  drops/'  urged  the  officer  anx- 
iously. 

"No,"  the  physician  answered  in  a  low  tone.  "He 
will  speak  in  a  moment." 


132  "I  Put  the  Poison  There  t" 

And  such  proved  to  be  the  case.  He  tried  severa* 
times,  and  at  last  by  a  frightful  effort  unloosed  the 
bonds  that  held  his  tongue,  and  whispered  in  a  strange 
tone: 

" What  is  the  matter?" 

"You  are  ill." 

"What  is  the  matter?"  the  sick  man  asked  again. 

"Have  you  been  poisoned  ?"  the  officer  asked. 

The  eyes  of  Mr.  Selden  turned  on  his  daughter  with 
a  terrible,  accusing  look,  which  she  turned  away  to» 
avoid.  Then  he  said  slowly: 

"Who  said  I  was  poisoned?" 

"Your  daughter;  she  accuses " 

"Doctor,  you  will  have  him  worn  out,"  interrupted 
Mildred  with  trembling  lips.  "You  must  not  let  him 
talk  any  more." 

Mr.  Selden's  eyes  flashed  once  at  his  daughter  while 
she  was  speaking,  and  then  returned  with  pertinacity 
to  the  face  of  the  officer. 

"She  accuses  whom?"  he  whispered. 

"She  accuses  your  wife." 

"It  is  false!"  he  gasped.     "It  was "  . 

Mildred,  with  trembling  limbs  and  pallid  lips,  threw 
herself  on  her  knees  by  her  father's  side  and  cried 
out: 

"Be  careful  what  you  say,  papa,  oh,  be  careful !" 

There  was  a  wild  pleading  in  her  tone  that  betrayed  j 


"I  Put  the  Poison  There!"  133 

her  terrible  anxiety,  and  caused  the  officer  to  place  his 
hand  on  her  shoulder,  while  he  bent  eagerly  over  her 
father. 

"Who  is  the  guilty  person,  sir?" 

Mildred's  trembling  hand  was  on  her  father's.  He 
feebly  drew  his  hand  away  and  fixed  his  gaze  on  the 
violet  orbs  of  her  he  had  made  his  wife. 

"There  is  no  guilty  person/'  he  said,  "there  was 
no  poison." 

"But  we  have  the  poisoned  glass,"  the  officer  said. 

"I  put  the  poison  in  there  myself,"  Mr.  Selden  said 
sadly.  "Goldie,  I  put  it  there  myself.  You  will  not 
doubt  me?" 

"No,  I  will  not  doubt  you." 

"That  is  a  good  girl.     Doctor,  can  you  save  me?" 

"There  is  always  hope  when " 

Mr.  Selden  feebly  stayed  .him. 

"I  think  I  am  dying.     Is  that  true?" 

"I  never  give  up  hope,"  the  physician  said. 

"But  there  are  things  that  must  be  done  ere  I  can 
die,"  Mr.  Selden  said.  "Tell  me  the  truth.  I  can  bear 
it.  I  am  already  too  old  to  fear  death.  I  must  know 
the  truth." 

"If  you  have  aught  to  do  ere  you  die,  it  would  be 
well  to  do  it  at  once,"  was  the  response,  in  a  low  tone. 

"I  wish  my  lawyer  to  come — Mr.  James  Follett, 
Nassau  Street.  Have  him  here  without  delay," 


134  4il  Put  the  Poison  There!" 

"He  lives  within  a  few  blocks,"  the  officer  said.  "I 
will  go  fetch  him." 

There  was  no  longer  any  question  of  the  innocence 
of  Goldie,  so  nothing  was  said  to  her  by  the  policeman 
as  he  hastened  away. 

"Come  here,  Goldie !"  the  dying  man  said :  "I  wish 
to  say  a  few  words  to  you." 

Mildred  started  up  and  bent  over  him,  murmuring, 
in  an  agonized  whisper. 

"I  did  not  mean  it,  papa.     Forgive  me!" 

"I  forgive  you  freely,  Mildred." 

"And,  papa,  do  not  tell  her  that  Donald  loves  her. 
Let  me  have  him." 

"I  will  leave  that  for  Heaven  to  adjust,"  he  an- 
swered. "Now  go,  and  let  me  have  a  few  last  words 
with  my  little  Goldie." 

Mildred  crept  away  to  the  other  end  of  the  room, 
and  there  sunk  upon  a  chair.  Goldie  drew  near  to 
Mr.  Selden  again. 

"Goldie,  dear,"  he  said.  "I  shall  not  live  to  bask  in 
the  sunshine  of  your  beautiful  eyes,  but  I  hope  to 
make  your  path  in  life  the  smoother  and  easier  for 
having  taken  my  name.  I  hope  you  will  live  to  be 
happy  and  beloved.  I  know  your  sorrow,  dear,  but  I 
am  so  near  to  death  that  it  seems  easy  for  me  to  see 
that  you  will  yet  be  happy." 

She  shook  her  head  sadly,  the  tears  filling  li-  r  eyes. 


"I  Put  the  Poison  There!"  135 

"I  fear  I  shall  never  be  happy."  she  murmured. 

"Yes,  you  shall,"  he  said.  "I  have  sent  for  my 
lawyer,  in  order  that  I  may  leave  you  well  provided 
for.  You  shall  be  worth  a  million  the  moment  I  am 
dead," 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
GOLDIE' s  OATH. 

It  was  plain  to  Mildred  that  it  lay  in  her  dying 
•father's  power  to  give  her  over  into  the  hands  of  jus- 
tice for  the  crime  she  had  committed. 

» 

She  feared  lest  he  should  do  so,  and,  had  it  been  pos- 
sible at  that  moment,  she  would  have  added  a  few. 
'drops  more  of  the  poison  to  the  dose  he  had  already 
taken,  so  that  she  would  have  been  left  free  to  wreak 
her  vengeance  on  Goldie. 

But  it  was  not  possible,  and  there  was  naught  foil 
her  to  do  but  to  sit  at  the  far  end  of  the  room,  gnaw- 
ing her  lip  and  gazing  with  the  bloodshot  eyes  of  a 
tigress  .at  her  father  and  Goldie. 

She  knew  that  what  she  had  done  had  but  brought 
Goldie  and  Donald  nearer  together;, and  all  she  thought! 
of  then  was  how  she  could  keep  them  still  apart. 

But  for  her  hatred  of  Goldie,  she  might  have  felt 
some  remorse  still  for  having  done  what  had  ended  in 
the  murder  of  her  own  father. 

The  thought  that  her, rival  would  come  out  of  the 
affair  enriched  and  still  free,  drove  her  to  madness. 

And  there,  in  that  room  of  death,  she  stared  fiercely] 
at  .Goldie,  and  plotted  savagely  for  her  downfall  and 
ruin. 


Goldie's  Oath.  137 

AH  that  was  human  in  her  nature,  excepting  only 
her  mad  passion  for  Donald,  seemed  to  have  gone  out 
of  her  heart,  and  no  wild  beast  could  have  been  more 
dangerous  than  she,  the  darkly  beautiful  murderess. 

Had  the  doctor  not  been  in  the  room  it  is  more  than 
likely  that  she  would  have  leaped  upon  Goldie  and 
tried  to  strangle  her,  so  furious  was  her  hatred  of  her. 

But  the  doctor  remained  there,  pacing  between  her 
and  the  strangely  assorted  pair  as  if  he  knew  that  it 
would  be  dangerous  to  depart. 

'•The  next  time/'  muttered  the  vengeful  girl,  "I 
will  not  make  a  mistake.  You  shall  not  take  Donald 
from  me.  He  may  not  be  mine,  but  he  never  shall  be 
yours." 

She  admitted  the  possibility  of  losing  Donald,  al- 
though she  was  his  affianced  wife ;  but  in  her  heart  she 
was  determined  to  strive  and  plot  and  scheme  until  she 
had  become  his  bride. 

"I  will  beguile  you  with  fair  words  and  promises," 
she  muttered.  "I  will  wear  a  mask  of  grief  and  contri- 
tion until  you  are  in  my  power:  'Ah !  I  see  plainly  how 
it  will  all  end." 

Her  black  eyes  flamed  as  she  thought  over  the  de- 
tails of  what  she  would  do,  and  how  she  would  punish 
Goldie  for  having  come  between  her  and  Donald. 

It  did  not  occur  to  her  to  forgive  Goldie  because  the1 
Hatter  had  done  nothing  voluntarily  to  injure  her.  Ife 


138  Goldie's  Oath. 

was  enough  that  her  rival  was  beautiful  and  bewitch- 
ing1, and  had  won  the  love  of  Donald  Irwin.  For  that 
she  would  punish  Goldie. 

Goldie,  meanwhile,  was  kneeling  by  the  side  of  the 
dying  man  whose  bride  she  was,  and  her  gentle  heart 
smote  her  because  she  could  not  in  honesty  speak  to 
him  words  of  love. 

But  death  had  appeared  before  his  eyes  and  had] 
opened  them  to  the  truth  as  they  had  never  been 
opened  before. 

He  yet  could  not  understand  that  money  was  not 
all-potent,  but  he  could  see  that  his  age  had  put  it  be- 
yond the  power  of  his  beautiful  bride  ever  to  love 
him. 

Moreover,  he  saw  in  its  true  light  his  own  conduct 
in  hastening  the  marriage  between  them,  when  poor 
Goldie  was  in  such  a  frame  of  mind  that  she  almosl 
would  have  become  the  bride  of  Death. 

He  looked  into  her  wondrous  eyes  as  they  were 
bent  pityingly  on  him,  and  he  thought  within  himself 
that  at  least  it  was  in  his  way  to  put  happiness  in  hen 
grasp. 

"Goldie/'  he  murmured.  "I  know  now  that  I  wa§ 
wrong  in  wedding  you.  It  would  have  been  a  cruel 
thing  had  I  lived  to  let  you  waste  the  sweetness  ol 
your  youth  and  beauty  on  me." 


Gol die's  Oatli.  139 

"Do  not  blame  yourself  for  what  was  as  much  my 
fault  as  yours/5 'she  replied  gently. 

"No,"  he  murmured,  "it  was  not  at  all  your  fault. 
You  were  unable  to  consider  what  you  were  doing.  I 
took  advantage  of  your  condition  of  mind.  But  you 
can  easily  forgive  me,  for  I  shall  leave  you  rich.  Then 
you  can  choose  where  you  will/' 

Goldie  did  not  interrupt  him  or  deny  what  he  said. 

She  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  tell  him  that 
there  could  be  no  happiness  for  one  whose  heart 
was  broken. 

She  knew  she  could  never  love  any  other  than  Don- 
ald, although  she  felt  that  she  ought  with  all  her 
strength  strive  to  despise  him. 

"You  will  forgive  me,  my  little  bride,  will  you  not?" 
he  )leaded. 

"If  there  is  anything  for  me  to  forgive,  I  freely 
do  it,"  she  responded. 

His  eyes  wandered  over  to  where  Mildred  sat,  and 
his  voice  sunk  so  low  that  Goldie  was  forced  to  bend 
over  him  until  her  face  almost  touched  his  ere  she 
could  hear. 

"There  is  one  more  thing,"  he  said. 

She  saw  that  he  looked  appealingly  at  Lor,  and  sue 
answered : 

"If  there  is  anything  I  can  do,  command  me." 


140  Goldie's  Oath. 

"I  do  not  command  it.  I  beg  it.  I  wish  you  to 
forgive  Mildred/' 

"Freely,"  Goldie  answered  without  hesitation. 

She  did  not  know  how  bitterly  Mildred  hated  her; 
nor  could  she  guess  what  dark  thoughts  were  speeding 
through  the  latter's  brain. 

"Before  ever  you  knew  Donald  he  loved  her  and  in- 
tended to  make  her  his  wife,"  he  went  on;  and  then 
looked  inquiringly  into  her  face. 

She  t  nodded  her  head.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she 
could  not  say  anything. 

Mr.  Selden  did  not  doubt  that  he  was  telling  the 
exact  truth,  and  could  not  guess  by  the  spasm  of  pain 
that  showed  on  her  beautiful  face  that  she  was  suffer- 
ing torture. 

"I  do  not  say  that  Donald  did  not  have  a  fancy  for 
you;  but  he  is  as  proud  as  Lucifer,  and  would  not  have 
wedded  a  factory  girl." 

If  he  had  thrust  a  knife  into  her  heart  and  turned 
it  around  it  could  not  have  given  her  greater  anguish. 

She  could  not  doubt  the  words  of  the  dying  man 
when  he  spoke  with  such  assurance;  and  if  there  had 
been  any  lingering  hope  in  her  breast  it  went  out  then. 

"I  want  you,"  he  continued,  "to  promise  me  that 
you  will  let  Mildred  have  him  should  he  now  return,  to 
you." 

"He  will  not  return  to  me,"  she  said  brokenly. 


Goldie's  Oath.  141 

"He  may.  You  will  be  rich  now,  and  can  educate 
yourself  in  all  thfci  little  accomplishments  you  now  lack. 
iThen,  when  you  are  a  figure  in  society,  he  may  retura 
to  you." 

"I  do  not  think  he  will,"  she  said  again. 

"Ah !"  murmured  the  dying  man,  "wealth  condones 
many  a  fault  of  birth  in  the  eyes  of  even  the  mos€ 
aristocratic.  He  will  not  look  down  upon  you  now  as 
he  did." 

"If  he  should  come  to  me  again  with  a  tale  of  love, 
I  would  turn  him  away  with  the  scorn  that  is  his 
meed,"  she  answered  wearily. 

"Will  you  promise  me  that  ?  Will  you  swear  to  me 
that  you  will  give  him  to  Mildred?  She  loves  him  so 
madly  that  she  would  die  if  he  were  to  desert  her." 

"I  will  promise  it,  swear  it,  if  you  will." 

"Yes,  yes,  swear  it.  One  moment !  Call  Mildred! 
hither.  I  wish  her  to  hear  your  oath." 

Goldie  rose  to  her  feet  and  turned  toward  Mildred. 
It  mattered  very  little  to  her  what  she  did.  Hope  was 
gone,  and  her  heart  was  torn  with  woe.  As  well 
humor  the  dying  man. 

"Mildred,"  she  said,  "will  you  come  here?  Your 
father  wishes  to  speak  to  you." 

Mildred  rose  without  a  word.    She  had  schooled  her-  " 
self  by  this  time  to  play  any  part  that  seemed  best  to 
accomplish  her  end.  * 


142  Goldie' s  Oath. 

When  she  had  reached  the  bedside,  she  stood  look- 
ing down  into  the  dying  man's  face.  He  gazed  up 
into  her  eyes  for  a  moment,  then  sighed  and  mur- 
mured : 

"Tell  her,  Goldie,  why  I  wished  her  here." 

"He  wishes  me  to  swear  that  I  will  not  have  aught 
to  do  with  Donald  Irwin.  He  wishes  me  to  swear  that 
I  will  give  him  up  to  you." 

The  black  eyes  flashed  fire  as  they  glanced  from 
face  to  face,  but  the  lips  of  Mildred  did  not  open. 
She  was  not  yet  sure  that  she  could  command  her 
speech. 

"I  have  told  him  I  would,"  Goldie  went  on  wearily, 
"though  it  does  not  seem  worth  while.  If  he  loves  me 
it  is  without  honorable  intentions,  and  I  spurn  such  a 
love.  If  he  do  not  love  me,  I  would  not  wed  him." 

"Yet  you  will  swear?"  Mr.  Selden  said  eagerly,  his 
eyes  dwelling  with  a  fearful  look  on  the  face  of  his 
daughter. 

"I  will  swear." 

"Mildred,"  he  murmured  gaspingly,  "say  the  words 
of  an  oath,  and  let  her  repeat  after  you." 

Mildred  choked  back  something  in  her  throat,  and 
said  in  a  low,  strained  tone : 

"Do  you  wish  it,  Goldie?" 

"Yes,  I  wish  it.     Anything!" 

Mildred    veiled    her    eyes    to    hide    the    light    that 


Goldie's  Oath.  143 

gleamed  in  them,  though  she  could  not  hide  her 
thoughts  from  her  father,  who  seemed  to  read  her 
through  her  mask. 

"The  oath,  Mildred!"  he  gasped. 

Mildred  hesitated  a  moment,  then  opened  her  lips 
and  her  words  came  slowly  forth: 

"I  swear  that  whether  Donald  Irwin  love  me  truly 
or  falsely,  I  will  give  him  up  to  Mildred  Selden,  to 
whom  he  is  betrothed.  And  may  my  soul  perish  if  I 
do  not  keep  this  oath  1" 

Goldie  shuddered  as  she  listened,  but  she  faithfully 
repeated  the  words  to  the  end. 

Mildred  flashed  a  swift  look  of  triumph  at  her  as 
she  'finished,  and  the  dying  man  closed  his  eyes  as  if 
content. 

Goldie  neither  saw  nor  heard  what  passed  after  that. 
It  seemed  to  her,  somehow,  as  if  she  had  pronounced 
her  own  doom.  She  had  uttered  words  that  would 
keep  her  from  the  only  man  she  could  ever  love. 

"Mildred !"  whispered  her  father,  alter  a  moment's 
pause. 

She  bent  over  him.  He  glanced  at  Goldie  and  saw 
that  she  would  not  hear  what  was  said.  Mildred  mur- 
mured: 

"What  is  it,  father?" 

"I  had  her  take  that  oath  so  that  you  should  be 
sure  that  she  could  not  come  between  you  and  him/' 


144  Goldie's  Oath. 

"She  will  never  dare  to  break  that  oath.1' 

"No;  she  will  not  break  it,  come  what  may.  And 
now  that  it  is  taken  you  must  swear  to  me  that  you 
\vill  never  again  attempt  her  life." 

Mildred  gazed  at  him  with  a  look  that  he  could  not 
understand,  but  which  filled  him  with  apprehension. 

"I  swear,"  said  Mildred,  "that  I  will  never  again 
attempt  her  life." 

"My  curse  upon  you  if  you  break  your  oath!"  he 
said. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

WEAVING   A    NEW    PLOT. 

Charles  Selden  was  dead — murdered  by  his  daugh- 
ter, and  she  was  shut  up  in  her  own  apartment,  not 
grieving,  but  plotting. 

He  had  lived  to  put  his  name  to  a  codicil  to  his  will, 
by  which  Goldie,  his  widow,  became  the  possessor 
of  over  a  million  dollars. 

He  had  closed  his  eyes  without  agony  because  the 
physician,  knowing  he  could  not  save  his  patient,  had 
given  him  drugs  to  drive  away  pain. 

He  had  died  with  a  lie  on  his  lips — a  solemn  lie 
which  had  saved  his  daughter  from  her  just  doom 
as  a  murderess,  or  Goldie  from  an  unjust  one. 

He  had  gone  from  this  life,  holding  in  his  the  little 
hand  of  his  factory  girl,  whose  wonderful  beauty  had 
won  his  love. 

"You  will  be  rich,  my  beautiful  Goldie/'  he  mur- 
mured. "You  will  be  so  rich  that  the  world  will  seek 
you  out,  and  worship  at  your  feet.  But  when  you  are 
known  you  will  be  loved  for  your  goodness  and 
beauty. " 

She  shook  her  head  sadly,  and  did  not  reply.  He 
went  falteringly  on  as  if  he  could  see  all  he  described: 


146  Weaving  a  New  Plot. 

"Donald  is  not  the  only  one.  There  will  be  others—* 
rich,  handsome  and  aristocratic  as  he,  and  you  will 
never  lack  for  lovers.  Marry  one  of  them,  my  Goldie, 
and  be  a  queen  in  society.  I  am  sorry  I  could  not  live 
to  see  it.  But  perhaps  it  is  better  as  it  is." 

No  doubt  Goldie  came  nearer  to  loving  him  as  he 
lay  there  dead  than  ever  she  could  have  done  had  he 
lived,  for  she  saw  him  now  only  in  his  unselfishness. 

And  after  all  he  was  her  husband,  though  only  in 
name,  and  the  heart  of  the  lonely  girl  went  out  to  him. 

She  bent  over  him  and  pressed  a  kiss  on  his  cold 
forehead,  then  turned  away,  and  left  the  room,  a 
stranger  in  her  own  house. 

She  felt  that  she  must  be  alone,  but  knew  not  where 
to  go.  She  would  have  spoken  to  the  housekeeper  had 
she  been  there,  but  the  servants  had  all  retired  silently 
downstairs. 

It  was  Mildred  who  had  been  watching  her,  and 
who  now  stepped  up  to  her  and  said  in  a  sorrowful 
tone: 

"Goldie,  I  know  I  have  not  been  kind  to  you,  but 
we  are  both  in  grief  together,  and  I  hope  you  will  not 
scorn  my  offer  of  friendship." 

Grateful  for  a  kind  word  at  such  a  time,  Goldie  for- 
got the  suspicions  that  had  flashed  into  her  brain  at 
the  time  Mildred  had  accused  her  of  the  murder  of  hen 
father. 


MS- 

Weaving  a  New  Plot.  147 

She  turned  her  great  eyes  on  the  other,  and  held  out 
her  little  hand. 

"I  have  no  quarrel  with  you,  Mildred.  There  is  no 
reason  why  we  should  not  be  friends,  if  you  will." 

Mildred  took  the  hand  that  was  offered  her,  and 
pressed  it  with  hypocritical  warmth. 

"What  a  good  little  thing  you  are!"  she  said. 
"Come,  I  will  show  you  the  guest-chamber,  which  is 
the  most  fitting  now  for  the  mistress  of  the  house. 
lYou  know  this  house  is  yours  now,  Goldie." 

"Yes,  I  know  it  is  mine,  but  I  hope  you  will  always 
consider  it  your  home.  I  would  never  have  consented 
to  accept  your  father's  wealth  if  he  had  not  told  me 
that  you  were  also  well  provided  for." 

"Yes,  I  am  well  provided  for,"  Mildred  replied; 
though  the  truth  was  that  she  had  not  as  much  as 
Goldie,  and  if  she  had  had  her  way,  would  have  taken 
every  cent  from  the  latter. 

But  it  was  not  her  purpose  to  betray  her  anger  at 
that  time.  She  nursed  a  terrible  plot  in  her  heart,  and 
it  was  necessary,  for  its  full  execution,  that  she  should 
|wt  on  the  appearance  of  perfect  friendliness. 

So  she  led  Goldie  to  the  room  which  had  been  pre- 
pared for  the  most  esteemed  guests  of  the  house,  and 
left  her  there. 

Then  she  had  gone  to  her  own  room,  in  order  tha* 


148  Weaving  a  New  Plot. 

she  might  be  alone  to  think  over  and  perfect  in  detail 
her  evil  scheme  against  the  happiness  of  poor  Goldie. 

The  servants  whispered  among  themselves  over  the 
startling  events  of  the  evening,  and  most  of  them  had 
no  doubt  that  Goldie  would  take  her  revenge  on  them 
by  discharging  them  all. 

The  housekeeper,  however,  who  had  taken  no  part 
against  Goldie,  bade  them  have  no  fear  of  such  a  thing, 
adding : 

"I  will  go  see  her  and  speak  to  her  about  it." 

Goldie  was  sitting  in  sad  silence  by  the  window  of 
the  room,  looking  out  on  the  fashionable  street,  and! 
thinking  that  great  as  the  change  in  her  fortunes  was^ 
she  would  far  rather  be  the  Goldie  of  a  week  ago  thart 
the  wealthy  widow  of  Charles  Selden,  and  the  betrayed! 
sweetheart  of  Donald  Irwin. 

"How  could  he  do  it  ?"  she  murmured.  "He  seemed 
all  that  was  good  and  noble,  and  my  whole  heart  went 
out  to  him  as  if  Heaven  itself  had  sanctioned  my  love. 
I  wish  I  was  dead !  I  wish  I  was  dead !" 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  housekeeper  knocked1 
at  the  door,  and  was  bidden  to  enter.  Goldie  looked 
inquiringly  at  her. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  for  disturbing  you  at  such  a) 
time,  Mrs.  Selden/'  the  housekeeper  said;  "but  I  know 
you  are  now  the  mistress  of  the  house,  and  I  thought! 


Weaving  a  New  Plot.  149 

I  ought  to  come  and  see  if  you  had  any  special  orders  I 
to  give." 

Goldie  shook  her  head. 

"I  have  no  orders  to  give.  I  know  nothing  of  the 
way  to  conduct  such  a  greai  mansion  as  this.  You 
look  kind  and  good;  won't  you  help  me?'* 

There  was  something  so  sweet  and  appealing  in  the 
tones  of  her  voice  that  a  tear  started  to  the  eye  of  the 
good  woman. 

"Indeed/'  she  cried  quickly,  "I  will  do  everything  in 

my    power   for  you.     I    am   glad    you    are   not    the 

'haughty,  high-headed  sort  as  Miss  Mildred,  for  if  you 

had  been  I  don't  think  I  could  have  stood  it  very  long." 

j      "Hush!  say  nothing  against  Miss  Mildred." 

"Well,-  I  suppose  I  ought  not,  and  I  won't,  but  I  do 
j  .want  to  ask  you  about  the  servants.    I  know  that  some 
J  of  them  didn't  act  very  nice  when  Miss  Mildred  said 
those  strange  things  about  you  in  the  other  room." 

"Miss  Mildred  did  not  know  what  she  was  sayingo 
It  does  not  matter  what  the  servants  said  or  did." 

"Then  you  don't  wish  any  of  them  sent  away  for 
it?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"Ah,  you  are  as  good  as  you  are  beautiful.     There 
are  not  many  who  would  be  as  forgiving;  but  I  told  J 
(them  it  would  be  so.     I  thought  I  read  you  aright, 


150  Weaving  a  New  Plot. 

You  won't  be  sorry,  Mrs.  Selden.  Every  one  will  be 
the  more  faithful  to  you  for  your  goodness/' 

After  that,  everything  went  on  with  the  decorum 
proper  to  a  house  of  death  until  the  day  of  the  funeral. 

If  there  had  been  an  invitation  to  the  friends  of  the 
family  to  attend  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Selden  there  would 
have  been  a  great  many  present,  for  some  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  strange  and  romantic  wedding  and 
sudden  death  had  been  whispered  around,  and  all  so- 
ciety was  eager  for  a  glimpse  of  the  factory  girl  whose 
beauty  had  won  the  aged  millionaire. 

But  it  did  not  suit  Mildred  that  Goldie  should  be 
seen  by  too  many,  and  therefore  she  put  the  matter  to 
her  in  such  a  way  that  she  gladly  consented  to  have 
the  funeral  as  quiet  as  possible. 

So  society  was  .disappointed,  and  when  the  funeral 
was  over  the  two  mourners  were  enabled  to  seclude 
themselves  as  they  wished. 

Mildred  had  lost  no  opportunity  to  ingratiate  herself 
into  the  good  will  of  Goldie,  and,  as  the  latter  was 
drifting  along  aimlessly,  it  was  easy  to  influence  her. 

When  they  were  alone  in  the  house,  Mildred  sought 
Goldie  in  her  room,  and  sat  down  beside  her,  saying: 

"Goldie,  dear,  is  it  not  time  that  we  made  some  plans 
for  the  future  ?" 

Goldie  looked  wonderingly  at  hen 


Weaving  a  New  Plot.  151 

"Why  do  you  say  we?  Is  not  your  future  laid  out 
lor  you  ?" 

Mildred  knew  that  she  referred  to  Donald  and  the 
probability  of  his  making  her  his  wife. 

"I  cannot  be  married  at  once,"  she  said  with  a  touch 
of  reproach  in  her  tone. 

She  might  have  confessed,  though  she  would  rather 
have  bitten  her  tongue  out,  that  she  had  heard  nothing 
of  Donald  since  he  left  the  house  that  night. 

"I  suppose  not/'  Goldie  said  in  a  low  tone. 

"No;  we  shall  wait  until  after  a  few  months,  at! 
least,  have  passed.  Goldie,  dear,"  she  said  suddenly, 
"I  hope  you  bear  me  no  ill  will  because  .of  what  has 
occurred?" 

"None,  I  assure  you." 

"I  am  not  sure,"  Mildred  said  reflectively,  "that  I 
ought  not  to  send  Donald  from  me  because  of  his  con- 
duct toward  you." 

She  watched  furtively  and  saw  a  quick  gleam  in  the 
violet  eyes.  Hope  was  not  dead  in  that  heart,  then, 
and  there  must  be  no  faltering  in  her  terrible  purpose. 

"Let  no  thought  of  me  weigh  with  you,"  Goldie 
said  brokenly.  "Donald  Irwin  is  dead  to  me,  and  I 
would  be  glad  if  I  never  again  heard  his  name  men- 
Honed." 

"It  shall  be  so  if  you  wish  it,"  Mildred  said;  "so 
We  will  return  to  my  object  in  coming  here  just  now. 


Weaving  a  New  Plot. 

Have  you  thought,  Goldie,  how  painful  it  will  be  to 
remain  in  this  house  now  ?" 

Goldie  looked  eagerly  at  her.  The  thought  of  dwell- 
ing there  all  alone,  as  they  must,  had  carried  dread  to 
her  heart. 

"I"  had  thought  of  it  Is  there  anything  else  we  can 
do?" 

"There  is  the  country  house.  It  is  mine,  but  you 
are  as  welcome  there  as  you  have  told  me  I  am  here. 
Why  not  close  up  this  place  and  go  there?" 

"I  should  be  so  glad!"  Goldie  cried. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

DONALD    IRWIN'S    RETURN. 

So  it  was  arranged  that  the  servants  should  be  taken 
to  the  country  house,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  who 
would  not  leave  the  city  in  the  winter  time. 

There  were  a  number  of  things  necessary  to  be 
done,  and  Mildred  was  out  of  the  house  many  times, 
Goldie  remaining  home. 

There  were  papers  to  be  signed,  lawyers  to  be  con- 
sulted and  a  great  deal  else  to  be  done,  so  that  Goldie 
•was  not  idle. 

Mildred  knew  everything  Goldie  did ;  but  the  latter 
was  far  from  knowing  what  the  former  did  when  she 
was  out  of  the  house.  If  she  had  known  she  would1 
never  have  gone  to  the  country  house  with  her.  But 
she  neither  knew  nor  suspected,  and  so  the  prepara- 
tions went  on. 

Goldie  grew  calmer  in  her  grief,  perhaps,  but  as  the 
days  went  by  it  seemed  as  if  her  heart  became  heavier! 
and  heavier. 

Those  who  met  her  as  the  lawyers  and  men  of  busi- 
ness did  were  always  charmed  and  fascinated  by  hen 
beauty  and  sweetness,  and  they  all  conceived  the  no- 


154  Donald  Irwin's  Return. 

tion  that  she  was  deeply  but  silently  grieving  for  the 
husband  she  had  lost. 

She  and  Mildred  knew  that  the  grief  was  for  the 
loss  of  faith  in  one  she  had  implicitly  trusted. 

"She  is  breaking  her  heart  yearning  for  him.!"  Mil- 
dred said  fiercely  to  herself.  "If  they  should  meet 
now,  who  can  tell  what  might  happen?" 

When  this  thought  entered  her  brain  she  began  to 
pace  the  floor  and  to  think  what  she  should  do. 

"I  will  bribe  one  of  the  servants  to  tell  me  who 
comes  while  I  am  out,"  she  muttered. 

But  when  she  began  to  go  over  the  servants  in  her 
mind,  it  was  long  before  she  could  decide  which  one 
to  take  that  much  into  her  confidence,  for  they  had 
all  learned  to  love  the  young  mistress  who  had  been 
so  kind  to  them. 

At  last,  however,  she  rang  her  bell,  and  bade  her 
maid  send  James,  the  head  footman,  to  her.  When 
he  came,  wondering,  she  said  to  him : 

"James,  you  have  always  been  a  faithful  servant/' 

He  bowed  and  looked  very  grateful  for  her  ap- 
preciation, though  the  fact  was  that  she  had  sent  for 
him  because  he  was  the  least  faithful  of  the  servants, 
and  therefore  the  one  most  likely  to  serve  her  purpose. 

"Now,"  she  went  on,  "our  dear  Mrs.  Selden  is  so 
unused  to  looking  after  so  much  that  I  am  afraid 
something  will  go  wrong  during  my  enforced  absence 


Donald  Irwin's  Return.  155 

from  the  house,  while  we  are  preparing  to  go  to  the 
country/7 

"Yes,  ma'am.  7 

"So,"  she  continued,  in  her  suavest  manner,  as  she 
held  a  five-dollar  bill  in  her  hand,  "I  want  you  to  keep 
close  watch  of  all  who  come  here  while  I  am  away, 
so  that  I  may  know,  without  having  to  bother  my  dear 
father's  sweet  little  widow." 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"Do  you  think  you  understand?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"Very  well,  then.  Here  is  a  little  bill  to  make  you 
careful,  and  there  will  be  as  much  more  for  each  day's 
faithful  service  to  me." 

James  pocketed  the  money  with  a  knowing  grin,  and 
said  slyly : 

"Thank  you,  miss.  You  won't  pay  your  money  for 
nothing.  I  won't  let  a  cat  look  at  her  without  letting 
you  know." 

After  that  Mildred  went  away  on  her  mysterious 
errands  with  a  greater  degree  of  comfort,  though  not 
at  perfect  ease  with  herself. 

And  James  waited  with  intense  curiosity  to  discover 
why  he  had  been  retained  with  so  liberal  a  fee. 

He  answered  the  bell  himself  in  these  days,  and  his 
fellow  servants,  knowing  his  former  capacity  for 
shirking  his  duty,  wondered  at  his  sudden  diligence. 


156  Donald  Irwin's  Return, 

"I  think  James  is  very  ill,"  said  one  of  them. 

"Why  do  you  think  so  ?"  asked  a  pretty  housemaid. 

"He  is  so  very  good  these  days  that  it  looks  as  if  he 
iwas  preparing  to  die/'  was  the  response,  which  caused 
a  great  laugh  in  the  kitchen. 

James,  however,  kept  his  counsel,  knowing  that  a 
secret  in  such  a  household  was  only  valuable  when 
kept,  and  he  hoped  to  make  the  secret  he  should  learn 
worth  much  some  day. 

Perhaps  it  would  never  amount  to  much ;  but  he  was 
not  kept  waiting  long  without  learning  it. 

One  day  when  he  answered  the  bell  who  should  be 
standing  there  but  Donald  Irwin,  who  had  disappeared 
so  suddenly,  and  had  not  been  seen  since. 

"Good-day,  sir/'  stammered  James,  standing  aside 
to  let  Donald  enter. 

"I  was  called  away  suddenly,"  said  Donald  hesi- 
tatingly, "and  had  no  time  to  send  for  my  things." 

"Yes,  sir;  they  are  all  right,  sir.  Miss  Mildred  had 
them  packed  in  your  trunk,  sir." 

"Very  good  of  her,"  he  said,  mechanically,  his  eyes 
seeming  to  search  the  house  from  where  he  stood.  "I 
suppose  she  is  in." 

"She  is  out  at  present,  sir.  Is  there  anything  you 
would  wish  to  say  to  her,  or  will  you  wait?" 

"I — I  think  I  will  wait.  I — I  was  sorry  not  to  be 
here  during — during  the — the: — — " 


Donald  Irwin's  Return.  157  ( 

"Melancholy  occasion,  sir/'  suggested  James,  who  ( 
was  rather  proud  of  his  eloquence. 

"Exactly.  I — I  suppose  Mrs.  Selden  is  much — » 
much  prostrated?" 

"Very  much  so,  sir.     In  fact,  sir,  it  is  a  surprise  to 
everybody.     Not  of  course  that  it  becomes  me  to  sug- 
gest that  she  did  not  love  him,  you  know,  sir.     But  it  ; 
is  only  natural,  all  things  considered " 

"Precisely/'  broke  in  Donald  impatiently.  "Where 
is  Mrs.  Selden,  now?" 

"With  her  lawyer  in  the  library,  sir/' 

Donald  reflected,  and  fumbled  in  his  pocket  at  the 
same  time. 

James  took  the  opportunity  to  study  him,  and  the 
result  of  his  studies  was  the  reflection  that  he  had 
never  seen  Mr.  Irwin  look  so  haggard. 

Donald  was  pale  and  worn,  and  his  fine  eyes  were  al- 
most fierce-looking  in  the  intensity  of  their  gaze. 
1  Then,  too,  his  clothing,  which  had  been  the  admira- 
tion of  many  a  man  of  fashion,  who  could  not  under- 
stand how  he  was  always  so  perfectly  dressed,  was 
now  almost  slovenly. 

He  had  all  the  appearance  of  a  man  whose  mental 
anguish  had  been  so  great  as  to  absorb  all  of  his  atten- 
tion to  the  exclusion  of  lesser  things. 

He  remained  unconscious  of  the  gaze  of  the  servant, 
and  slowly  drew  a  roll  of  bills  from  his  pocket. 


158  Donald  Irwin's  Return. 

James'  intuition  was  keen  enough  to  enable  him  to 
comprehend  what  was  going  to  follow,  and  on  the 
instant  his  thought  formed  itself. 

"I  wonder  if  Miss  Mildred  paid  me  the  five  to  tell 
her  that  Mr.  Irwin  had  come  to  see  Mrs.  Selden?" 

"James,"  said  Donald,  slowly,  "I  want  you  to  do 
something  for  me." 

He  gave  the  footman  a  bill  as  he  spoke,  and  a  swift 
glance  told  James  that  it  was  of  the  same  value  as  the 
one  Mildred  had  given  him. 

"Yes,  sir;  anything  in  my  power,"  and  he  thrust  the 
bill  quickly  into  his  pocket  lest  one  of  the  other  serv- 
ants should  see  it. 
i 

"I  am  going  into  the  reception-room  here,  and  I 
iwant  you  to  tell  Mrs.  Selden  that  a  gentleman  wishes 
to  see  her.  Wait  until  the  lawyer  is  gone." 

"Shall  I  tell  her  who  it  is,  sir?"  demanded  James, 
with  a  pretense  at  stupidity. 

"No.  Do  not  let  her  know.  Say  only  that  it  is  a 
gentleman." 

"Very  well,  sir.  But  I  hear  the  door  of  the  library 
open.  Hark!  their  voices!" 

Donald  listened,  and  as  the  dulcet  tones  of  Goldie's 
voice  fell  on  his  ear,  his  eyes  filled  with  a  look  of 
adoration. 

"Better  ^et  into  the  reception-room,  sir,  if  you  don't 
to  be  een." 


Donald  Irwin's  Return.  159 

Donald  started  as  if  waked  from  an  ecstasy,  and 
glided  into  the  room. 

His  heart  was  throbbing  violently,  and  his  hands 
trembled  as  he  rubbed  them  one  against  the  other.  He 
leaned  against  the  mantel  and  listened  for  another 
sound  of  her  voice. 

"Now,"  he  murmured,  with  dry  throat,  "unworthy 
though  I  am,  I  shall  see  once  more  that  wondrous 
face.  Fool!  fool!  that  I  was,  not  to  know  my  own 
heart!  Will  she  forgive  me?  She  must,  she  must 
when  she  hears  me  to  the  end." 

He  did  not  know  of  the  terrible  oath  she  had  taken 
at  the  death-bed  of  her  husband. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

"l    CANNOT    BE   YOURS !" 

(  If  Goldie  had  followed  the  dictates  of  her  own  heart 
she  would  not  have  put  on  mourning  for  her  husband. 
It  seemed  such  a  mockery  to  her.  She  did  not  and 
could  not  mourn  for  him,  as  the  sombre  weeds  she 
wore  seemed  to  proclaim. 

She  had  protested  to  Mildred  that  she  could  not  bear 
to  do  it,  but  Mildred  had  urged  her  not  to  shock 
society  by  refusing  to  do  what  all  widows  did,  whether 
they  had  loved  or  hated  their  husbands  in  life. 

So  she  had  done  as  they  wished  her  to,  and  the 
j  fashionable  dressmaker  had  done  her  best;  rejoiced,  if 
the  truth  be  told,  to  have  such  a  beautiful  creature  to 
deck  out. 

And  the  result  was  what  might  have  been  expected. 
In  spite  of  her  woe,  in  spite  of  the  sad  expression  that 
filled  heE>eyes,  she  was  strangely  beautiful  in  the  som- 
bre garments. 

The  violet  of  her  eyes  seemed  deeper,  and  the  gold 
of  her  hair  seemed  more  than  ever  like  the  precious 
metal  spun  out  in  fairy  threads. 

The  men  who  came  to  transact  business  with  her 
became  entranced  with  her  rare  and  seductive  beauty. 
j  It  seemed  as  if  men  only  looked  on  her  to  adore  hei 


"I  Cannot  Be  Yours  1"  i6r 

She  stood  at  the  door  of  the  library  bidding  the  law- 
yer good-by.  He  was  not  a  young  man,  but  he  was 
in  the  prime  of  life  and  a  bachelor. 

He  had  lived  until  now  careless  of  the  love  of 
.women.  When  he  met  Goldie  he  forgot  his  reserve, 
'forgot  that  he  had  laughed  at  love,  and  worshiped  her. 

But  something  told  him  that  it  would  be  as  well  to 
,woo  a  marble  statue;  so  he  worshiped  in  silence,  say- 
ing to  himself  that  here  was  a  woman  with  an  incura- 
ble grief. 

He  bade  her  farewell,  and  she  forgot  him  ere  he 
left  the  house;  he  never  forgot  her  while  he  lived. 

She  turned  back  into  the  library,  when  James  glided 
respectfully  after  her  and  spoke  to  her  as  she  was  sink- 
ing wearily  into  a  chair  at  the  desk.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  her  head  would  burst  some  day  with  its  load  of 
cares. 

"A  gentleman  to  see  you,  madam." 

"Who?"  she  asked,  without  looking-  up. 

"A  gentleman." 

Her  brows  contracted  impatiently,  but  no  petulant 
word  fell  from  her  lips,  red  despite  her  sorrow. 

"What  is  his  name,  please?" 

"He  did  not  give  it,"  said  James,  taking  the  chance. 

"Did  he  wish  to  see  me  on  business  ?  But  I  suppose 
that  is  it.  Bring;  him  in  here,  please!" 


"I  Cannot  Be  Yours!" 

James  chuckled  as  he  glided  away. 

"Miss  Mildred  would  never  have  been  fooled  so 
easily,"  he  muttered. 

Donald  was  pacing  the  floor  when  James  entered 
the  room.  He  stopped  and  gasped : 

"Well?" 

"You  are  to  go  to  her  in  the  library,  sir." 

Donald  thrust  another  bill  into  his  hand,  saying 
hastily : 

"Let  no  one  interrupt  us !     I  have  business  of  im- ' 
portance." 

James  laughed  softly,  as  he  buried  the  last  bribe  in 
his  capacious  pocket. 

"Business !"  he  ejaculated  to  himself ;  "I'll  bet  a  dol- 
lar it's  love.  Ah !  there  will  be  fun  here  one  of  these, 
days :  but  that  is  none  of  my  business.  Let  them  have 
it  out  while  I  reap  the  golden  harvest." 

Donald,  with  white  face  and  set  jaws,  hastened  to 
the  library.  In  it  was  contained  the  sum  and  substance 
of  his  life's  happiness. 

Goldie  was  trying  to  fix  her  mind  on  some  papers 
when  he  entered,  and  with  the  bliss  of  seeing  her  once 
more  came  also  the  feeling  that  it  was  pitiful  to  see 
that  beautiful  creature,  hardly  more  than  a  child,  al- 
ready weighed  down  with  the  cares  of  wealth. 

He  closed  the  door  as  he  came  in,  and  stood  devour- 


"I  Cannot  Be  Yours!"  163 

ing  her  with  his  hungry  eyes.     He  could  not  have 
•  spoken  if  his  life  had  depended  on  it. 

She  looked  up  as  he  remained  silent,  and  as  she  saw 

who  stood  there  the  weary  expression  faded  from  her 

eyes,  and  something  quite  different  flashed  into  them. 

She  started  to  her  feet,  too,  and  her  little  hand  went 

out  with  a  queenly  gesture  of  indignation. 

"How  dared  you  come  here?"  she  cried,  her  bosom 
swelling. 

i      How  rarely  beautiful  she  was !    How  could  he  ever 
have  been  so  mad  as  to  cast  from  him  such  a  pearl? 
I  His  voice  came  to  him. 

"I  came  because  my  love  would  not  let  me  remain 
away,"  he  answered. 

She  saw  plainly  enough  that  he  was  thinner  and  that 
his  cheeks  were  haggard;  but  it  seemed  as  if  she  could 
no  longer  read  his  eyes  as  she  could  do  when  first  they 
met. 

"Your  love !"  she  cried  scornfully.  "Your  love  is  an 
insult." 

The  color  rose  to  his  pale  face. 

"True  love  can  never  be  an  insult,"  he  said;  "and 
my  love  for  you  is  true  and  strong.  It  is  woven  into 
the  very  fibre  of  my  being,  Goldie.  My  love  is  not  an 
insult." 

She  made  a  gesture  of  passionate  disdain. 


164  "I  Cannot  Be  Yours !" 

"Are  you  not  betrothed  to  Mildred  Selden?"  she 
asked. 

"I  am  betrothed  to  Mildred  Selden.  It  was  the  act 
of  a  madman,  and  I  shall  beg  her  to  release  me." 

"And  that  will  be  the  act  of  a  despicable  wretch. 
But  this  does  not  concern  me,  sir.  You  can  have  no 
reason  for  prolonging  an  interview  which  you  have 
obtained  by  trickery.  If  I  had  known  who  it  was 
wished  to  see  me,  I  would  have  refused  you  admittance 
to  my  presence.  There  is  but  one  person  in  this  house 
you  have  any  right  to  see,  and  that  is  the  woman  you 
asked  to  be  your  wife." 

How  beautiful — how  maddeningly  beautiful  she 
looked  as  the  scathing*  words  leaped  from  her  lips ! 

"Goldie !"  he  cried  passionately,  "I  have  no  right  to 
wed  Mildred.  I  do  not  love  her.  It  was  a  horrible 
mistake.  I  never  loved  her.  It  was  you,  you  I 
loved." 

Her  lip  curled  as  she  listened. 

"Are  you  sure  now  that  it  is  not  my  money  you 
love  ?  I  am  rich  now,  you  no  doubt  have  heard.  I  am 
no  better  born  than  I  was  before,  but  I  am  rich.  Does 
that  level  the  barrier  between  the  plebeian  and  the 
aristocrat  ?" 

"You  stab  me  with  your  words,  Goldie,  but  I  de- 
serve the  worst  you  can  say  excepting  only  that  I  did 
not  love  you  when  I  said  I  did.  That  was  love,  Goldie^ 


"I  Cannot  Be  Yours !*  165 

and  you  knew  it  even  better  than  I.  Your  pure  heart 
told  you  what  was  hidden  from  me  by  the  madness 
which  was  the  result  of  my  teaching/' 

"Yes,  I  loved  you/'  she  said  frankly,  "and  you  said 
you  loved  me.  You  said  it  and  thought  you  were 
lying;  is  that  what  you  mean?  Would  you  have  me 
believe  that  you  discovered  that  you  told  the  truth 
only  after  I  became  rich?" 

"What  is  your  money  to  me?  What  do  I  care  for 
it?  Throw  it  away!  oh,  my  darling!  throw  it  away! 
Give  it  to  Mildred.  I  will  give  mine — all  I  possess — » 
to  some  charity,  and  will  go  out  to  begin  the  world  in 
poverty  if  only  you  will  be  by  my  side.  Money!  it  is 
nothing!  Birth!  nothing,  less  than  nothing!  Love  is 
everything,  Goldie,  and  if  you  turn  me  from  you  now, 
when  I  know  that  your  heart  is  throbbing  with  love 
for  me,  you  will  be  wretched  as  long  as  you  live. 
Goldie !  forgive  me  and  be  mine !" 

It  was  not  possible  to  listen  to  him  as  he  poured! 
out  his  heart  in  molten  words  of  love,  and  not  know 
that  he  was"  in  passionate  earnest. 

Goldie  tried  to  be  hard  and  cold,  but  her  own  heart 
pleaded  for  him  more  eloquently  than  he  pleaded  for 
himself. 

She  tried  to  speak  again  with  scorn  and  comtumely; 
itrher  words  and  tone ;  but  when  her  lips  opened,  they] 


168  "I  Cannot  Be  Yours!" 

knew  that  he  spoke  the  truth.  She  knew  that  he  loved 
her. 

But  ever  before  her  eyes  hovered  a  blinding  flame, 
in  which  she  could  read  the  words  of  her  oath  to  the 
dying  man. 

"I  cannot  be  yours,"  she  wailed.  "You  have  come 
too  late.  I  have  sworn  an  awful  oath  before  Heaven, 
by  the  side  of  my  dying  'husband,  that  I  would  not 
stand  between  you  and  Mildred.  I  have  sworn  it,  and 
you  have  plighted  your  troth.  You  must  wed  her!" 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A    TERRIBLE    ORDEAL. 

Goldie's  words  were  a  complete  confession,  even  if 
her  manner  had  not  already  betrayed  her.  Donald! 
knew  she  had  forgiven  him.  He  had  never  doubted 
she  still  loved  him.  He  may  have  asked  himself  im 
his  anguish  if  she  did,  but  in  his  heart  he  was  always 
certain. 

And  now  he  knew  that  he  had  not  only  her  heart,, 
but  her  forgiveness  as  well,  and  the  knowledge  so 
elated  him  that  he  snatched  her  to  his  breast  and  cried 
out  in  tones  of  profound  joy: 

"You  are  mine  once  more,  my  darling.  Ah,  I  shall 
never  again  do  or  say  aught  which  will  permit  you  to 
doubt  me  for  a  single  instant !" 

She  yielded  herself  to  the  bliss  of  his  caresses  for 
a  moment,  because  it  would  not  have  been  humanly; 
possible  to  help  it. 

Then  recollection  came,  and  she  knew  that  she  must 
end  this  scene  though  it  broke  both  their  hearts. 

That  awful  oath  in  its  words  of  fire  still  gleamed 
before  her  eyes,  and  she  knew  that  it  would  ever  be 
thus.  There  was  no  other  way  but  to  give  him up  to 
Mildred. 


170  A  Terrible  Ordeal. 

His  lips  were  on  hers,  and  he  was  drinking  ecstasy] 
from  them,  when,  with  a  strangled  cry,  she  pushed 
him  away,  and  her  voice  rose  to  a  wail  as  she  cried 
out: 

"Oh,  Donald,  my  dearest  love,  you  are  too  late !  I 
have  given  you  up  by  a  fearful  oath,  sworn  by  the 
bed  of  death/' 

He  would  not  give  her  up  yet,  but  let  her  hold  her- 
self at  arm's  length  from  him,  while  his  burning  eyes 
drank  in  the  bewitching  beauty  of  her  face. 

"And  do  you  think  I  will  give  you  tip?"  he  mur- 
mured. "Oh,  my  darling,  can  you  not  see  that  it  was 
but  a  trick  to  keep  us  apart?  But  we  will  foil  them 
because  our  love  is  so  great  that  it  has  brought  us 
together  again." 

A  wail  of  utter  misery  broke  from  her  lips.  Why 
would  he  not  understand? 

"Donald,  Donald!  it  may  not  be.  I  swore  by  his 
dying  bed,  and  my  oath  is  sacred.  If  I  broke  it  even 
for  the  bliss  of  having  you,  I  should  always  be  haunted 
by  it,  and  it  would  drag  me  to  madness.  Besides,  an 
oath  is  too  sacred  to  be  broken  for  any  cause.  You 
are  come  too  late,  my  Donald." 

Her  despair  and  woe  were  so  great  that  it  seemed  to 
him  they  would  kill  her.  He  realized  the  truth  for  the 
first  time.  He  had  lost  her.  He  might  hold  her  in 
his  arms  because  his  strength  was  greater  than  hers, 


A  Terrible  Ordeal.  171 

and  perhaps  because  her  heart  was  all  his.  But  he 
might  never  possess  her  while  Mildred  lived,  because 
her  conscience  was  too  firm  in  the  right,  her  soul  too 
pure. 

He  had  lost  her  in  the  moment  of  finding  her.  He 
must  give  her  up  because  a  dying  man  and  a  living, 
wily  woman  had  duped  her.  The  thought  almost  drove 
him  mad. 

He  released  his  hold  on  her,  and  she  staggered  bade 
and  rested  against  the  library  table,  her  eyes  dwelling 
on  his  convulsed  face  with  an  accession  of  misery. 

"Goldie,"  he  cried,  "it  is  not  right!  Heaven  will 
not  bless  such  an  oath!  It  was  a  trick  of  Mildred's! 
I  can  see  it!  Ah,  you  need  not  shake  your  head,  as 
if  I  did  not  know  the  circumstances!  I  tell  you  it 
was  a  trick  of  hers,  and  she  shall  undo  what  she  has 
done!" 

There  was  in  his  face  a  look  of  terrible,  implacable 
determination,  and  for  a  moment  a  wild  thrill  of  joy 
shot  through  her,  as  if  she  had  hoped  he  might  win  her 
freedom  from  her  oath. 

Then  thought  came,  and  she  shook  her  head  sadly. 
She  knew  better  than  he  that  it  could  not  be. 

"Donald,"  she  moaned,  "it  is  useless  to  struggle 
against  fate.  Mildred  will  never  willingly  give  you 
tip,  and  unless  she  does,  I  may  not  wed  you,  for  my 
oath  was  that  I  would  never  stand  between  you/ 


172  A  Terrible  Ordeal. 

"She  must  give  me  up,"  he  said  fiercely. 

It  seemed  intolerable  that  anything  should  exist  to 
separate  him  from  his  love. 

"No,"  protested  Goldie,  with  firmness,  "you  must 
wed  her.  You  must  tell  her  the  truth,  but  when  she 
insists,  as  I  know  she  will,  you  must  wed  her." 

"It  would  be  sacrilege." 

"It  would  be  worse  not  to  wed  her  after  you  have 
promised  and  I  have  sworn.  Ah,  Donald!  do  not 
make  my  task  harder.  It  is  killing  me  to  struggle 
against  you;  but  it  is  the  only  thing  I  can  do." 

"What!"  he  gasped  wildly,  "must  I  lose  you  now 
that  everything  has  become  so  clear  to  me,  and  Heaven 
itself  has  seemed  to  smile  on  our  love?  Oh,  Goldie, 
my  love!" 

"You  have  promised,  and  I  have  sworn,"  she 
moaned,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"We  will  break  promise  and  oath.  Heaven  never 
intended  either  to  hold." 

"Heaven  will  never  smile  on  us  if  we  do  not  act 
honestly,  Donald.  You  know  that  as  well  as  I.  Ah, 
Donald,  be  your  noble  self  and  help  me  in  this  woeful 
task  of  doing  right." 

He  passed  his  hand  hastily  over  his  eyes  and  looked 
at  her.  Then  a  cry  broke  from  his  lips. 

"Goldie,  you  are  the  noblest  and  the  sweetest  woman 

^ 


A  Terrible  Ordeal.  173 

that  ever  lived.  I  know  you  are  right,  and,  Heaven 
helping  me,  I  will  do  my  duty." 

She  held  out  her  hands  toward  him  with  a  mournful 
smile  on  her  face,  but  did  not  speak.  She  had  won  the 
hard  battle,  but  was  almost  prostrated. 

He  took  her  hands  in  his,  and  covered  them  with 
burning  kisses,  every  one  of  which  seemed  to  her  to 
sink  into  her  very  soul. 

"Goldie !  you  are  an  angel !  I  shall  do  my  duty,  and 
yet  something  tells  me  that  somehow,  some  way,  we 
shall  yet  be  happy.  Good-by,  my  darling !  Come  what 
may  we  love  each  other.  There  is  no  barrier  between 
us  now." 

"None,  but- Heaven  itself!"  she  murmured,  sinking 
in  a  swoon  in  his  arms. 

He  caught  her  to  him,  and  pressed  her  passionately, 
to  his  breast,  at  the  same  time  raining  burning  kisses 
down  on  her  lips  and  eyes  and  cheeks. 

"How  good  and  pure  and  strong  she  is!"  he  cried, 
as  he  gazed  down  on  the  white,  perfect  face.  "I  will 
part  from  her  so.  Farewell,  my  best  beloved,  my 
own!" 

He  carried  her  tenderly  to  the  divan  that  stood  by 
the  side  of  the  room,  and  placed  her  there.  Then 
pressing  a  last  kiss  upon  her  lips,  he  fled  from  the 
room. 


174  A  Terrible  Ordeal. 

James  was  still  in  the  hall,  trying  vainly  to  look  the 
pattern  of  a  virtuous  footman. 

"Is  Miss  Mildred  home?"  Donald  asked,  with  a 
yehemence  that  made  the  fellow  stare. 

"Not  yet,  sir." 

"When  she  returns,  tell  her  that  I  have  been  here, 
and  say  that  I  shall  be  here  again  this  evening,  when 
I  would  like  to  see  her." 

"Yes,  sir." 

Donald  rushed  from  the  house  and  disappeared 
down  the  street,  while  James  stood  watching  him  and 
shaking  his  head. 

"What  a  queer  lot  they  all  are!"  he  murmured. 
"He  pays  me  not  to  say  anything,  and  then  comes  out 
and  tells  me  to  say  it.  Well,  I  can  tell  the  truth  for 
once." 

And  so  he  did,  when  Mildred  returned ;  "but  he  told 
it  in  his  own  way,  because  he  wished  to  find  out  as 
much  more  as  possible ;  always  with  a  keen  scent  for 
possible  blackmail  in  the  future. 

"Who  has  been  here  to-day?"  Mildred  asked,  when 
she  stepped  into  the  hall  about  an  hour  later. 

James  repeated  over  the  names  of  those  who  had 
been  there,  ending  up  with  Donald's  name.  Then  he 
knew  that  that  was  the  one  name  for  which  Mildred 
had  been  waiting. 


A  Terrible  Ordeal.  175 

Her  eyes  filled  with  a  sudden,  lurid  light,  her  lips 
trembled  and  her  voice  quavered  as  she  panted : 

"Did — did  he — he  ask  for — for  me?" 

"Not  at  first,  Miss  Mildred.  The  fact  is— but 
maybe  you  don't  care  to  know  what  happened/' 

She  thrust  a  bill  into  his  hand,  and  said  savagely : 

"Tell  me  everything." 

"Well,  he  gave  me  a  dollar  not  to  teir  what  hap- 
pened." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  he  asked  to  see  Mrs.  Selden,  but  made  me 
take  the  message  that  a  gentleman  wished  to  see  her." 

"Yes,  yes!  and  she  saw  him?" 

"She  saw  him  in  the  library." 

"Ah!  she  knew  full  well  who  it  was,"  hissed  Mil- 
dred, furiously,  regardless  of  the  presence  of  the  foot- 
man. "What — what  took  place  there?  Come,  it  is 
worth  your  while  to  tell  me  everything.  I  know  that 
servants  listen  at  the  doors.  What  took  place?" 

James  looked  very  foolish.  Not  at  being  accused  oi 
listening  at  the  doors,  but  because  he  had  such  a 
meager  report  to  give. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  miss,  I  had  no  chance  to 
listen.  I  looked  through  the  keyhole  just  for  a  minute 
though." 

"Ah!  did  you  see  anything?" 


174  A  Terrible  Ordeal. 

James  was  still  in  the  hall,  trying"  vainly  to  look  the 
pattern  of  a  virtuous  footman. 

"Is  Miss  Mildred  home?"  Donald  asked,  with  a 
vehemence  that  made  the  fellow  stare. 

"Not  yet,  sir/' 

"When  she  returns,  tell  her  that  I  have  been  here, 
and  say  that  I  shall  be  here  again  this  evening,  when 
I  would  like  to  see  her." 

"Yes,  sir." 

Donald  rushed  from  the  house  and  disappeared 
down  the  street,  while  James  stood  watching  him  and 
shaking  his  head. 

"What  a  queer  lot  they  all  are!"  he  murmured. 
"He  pays  me  not  to  say  anything,  and  then  comes  out 
and  tells  me  to  say  it.  Well,  I  can  tell  the  truth  for 
once." 

And  so  he  did,  when  Mildred  returned ;  t>ut  he  told 
it  in  his  own  way,  because  he  wished  to  find  out  as 
much  more  as  possible;  always  with  a  keen  scent  for 
possible  blackmail  in  the  future. 

"Who  has  been  here  to-day?"  Mildred  asked,  when 
she  stepped  into  the  hall  about  an  hour  later. 

James  repeated  over  the  names  of  those  who  had 
been  there,  ending  up  with  Donald's  name.  Then  he 
knew  that  that  was  the  one  name  for  which  Mildred 
had  been  waiting. 


A  Terrible  Ordeal.  175 

Her  eyes  filled  with  a  sudden,  lurid  light,  her  lips 
trembled  and  her  voice  quavered  as  she  panted : 

"Did — did  he— he  ask  for— for  me?" 

"Not  at  first,  Miss  Mildred.  The  fact  is— but 
maybe  you  don't  care  to  know  what  happened/' 

She  thrust  a  bill  into  his  hand,  and  said  savagely : 

"Tell  me  everything.'' 

"Well,  he  gave  me  a  dollar  not  to  tell'  what  hap- 
pened." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  he  asked  to  see  Mrs.  Selden,  but  made  me 
take  the  message  that  a  gentleman  wished  to  see  her." 

"Yes,  yes!  and  she  saw  him?" 

"She  saw  him  in  the  library." 

"Ah!  she  knew  full  well  who  it  was,"  hissed  Mil- 
dred, furiously,  regardless  of  the  presence  of  the  foot- 
man. "What — what  took  place  there?  Come,  it  is 
worth  your  while  to  tell  me  everything.  I  know  that 
servants  listen  at  the  doors.  What  took  place?" 

James  looked  very  foolish.  Not  at  being  accused  oi 
listening  at  the  doors,  but  because  he  had  such  a 
meager  report  to  give. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  miss,  I  had  no  chance  to 
listen.  I  looked  through  the  keyhole  just  for  a  minute 
though." 

"Ah!  did  you  see  anything?" 


176  A  Terrible  Ordeal. 

"I  saw  that  Mr.  Irwin  had  Mrs.  Selden  in  his  arms 
and  was  kissing  her/' 

Mildred  threw  her  hands  in  the  air  with  a  gesture 
of  fury. 

"Curse  her!  Curse  her!  Does  she  forget  her 
oath?" 

James  stared  and  made  a  mental  note  at  the  same 
time.  He  saw  the  promise  of  family  trouble. 

"When  he  went  away,  miss,"  he  went  on,  "he  said 
to  tell  you  that  he  had  been  here  and  would  come 
back  this  evening  to  see  you/'. 

Mildred  fixed  her  burning  eyes  on  his  face. 

"To  beg  his  release,"  she  hissed;  "but  though  he 
begs  forever  he  shall  not  have  it.  Where  is  Mrs. 
Selden?" 

"She  came  out  of  the  library  about  half  an  hour 
after  Mr.  Irwin  went  away,  looking  very  white  and 
ill.  She  went  upstairs." 

Mildred  ground  her  white  teeth  together  and,  first 
thrusting  another  bill  into  the  fellow's  hand,  swept  ufj 
the  staircase,  muttering : 

"It  will  not  be  for  long.  And,  oh!  my  vengeance 
be  as  complete  as  it  will  be  terrible." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

"l    WILL    NOT    GIVE   YOU    UP." 

What  anguish  Donald  felt  only  Goldie  could  know, 
for  her  sufferings  were  kindred  to  his.  How  he 
passed  the  time  after  leaving  the  house  he  could  not 
have  told. 

He  had  hoped  he  could  calm  his  perturbed  soul  dur- 
ing the  interval  before  seeing  Mildred,  but  it  seemed  as 
if  he  grew  more  unsettled  with  each  hour. 

He  tried  to  persuade  himself  that  he  would  have 
no  difficulty  in  making  it  clear  to  Mildred  that  their 
marriage  would  be  a  sin;  but  always  there  came  the 
picture  of  Goldie  taking  that  oath  by  the  death-bed, 
and  that  in  itself  was  enough  to  show  him  that  it  was 
a  hopeless  attempt  on  his  part. 

He  did  not  dream  of  giving  up,  however.  He  clung 
to  his  resolye  to  keep  his  promise,  if  Mildred  held 
him  to  it,  but  was  strenuous  in  his  determination  to 
*f>lead  with  her.  So  when  evening  came,  he  went  to 
(the  house  and  asked  to  see  her. 

She  was  carefully  dressed,  and  went  down  to  him 
with  a  face  full  of  joy.  She  had  thought  it  all  out, 
and  had  regained  her  self-control.  She  would  play 
IHer  part  so  that  no  one  should  suspect  her. 

"Oh,  Donald !"  she  cried,  as  she  entered  the  room 


178  "I  Will  Not  Give  You  Up.77 

where  he  waited,  "I  wondered  what  had  become  of 
you.    I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  again,  dear." 

As  if  she  did  not  notice  the  slight  drawing  back 
from  her,  she  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and 
pressed  a  kiss  upon  his  lips. 

"I  should  have  come  before,  Mildred,"  he  said, 
gently  unclasping  her  arms  from  his  neck.  "I  know 
I  have  not  done  right." 

"Do  not  speak  of  that,  dear,"  she  said.  "You  did 
what  you  pleased,  and  what  pleases  you  must  ever 
be  right  in  my  eyes." 

It  seemed  to  him  that  he  would  go  mad  if  she  con- 
tinued to  talk  to  him  thus  in  accents  of  love,  and  he 
started  in  on  his  subject  at  once. 

"Mildred,"  he  said  abruptly,  "I  came  here  for  a 
specific  purpose." 

She  knew  that  the  thing  she  dreaded  to  hear  was 
coming. 

"Yes,  Donald,  dear,"  she  said. 

"I  was  here  this  afternoon;  you  knew  that?" 

"Yes,  I  knew  that." 

"Have  you  seen  Goldie?" 

"No;  it  was  the  servant  who  told  me.  Goldie  has 
not  come  from  her  room  this  evening;  she  is  stiff ering 
from  a  severe  headache,  I  believe." 

"Not  headache,  Mildred,"  he  said  quickly,  "bu|; 
heartache." 


"I  Will  Not  Give  You   Up."  179 

•"Ah,  yesi  poor  Goldie  has  felt  the  loss  of  my  father 
more  than  I  would  have  believed  possible." 

Donald  waved  his  hand  impatiently. 

"It  is  not  the  dead  but  the  living  she  mourns,  and 
I  must  assume  that  you  know  it  is  so." 

"How  strangely  you  speak,  Donald!" 

"Not  so  strangely  but  you  must  understand  me,  Mil- 
dred. But  I  shall  be  more  explicit;  I  came  for  that 
purpose.  Mildred,  why  did  you  exact  that  oath  from 
Goldie  by  the  bedside  of  your  dying  father?" 

A  faint  flush  mounted  to  the  cheeks  of  Mildred,  but 
there  was  no  other  sign  of  her  inward  disturbance. 

"Did  she  tell  you  of  it,  then,  Donald?  What  a 
strange  thing  it  was !  But  surely  she  did  not  say  I  ex- 
acted it?  Why,  I  did  not  know  what  papa  had  made 
her  promise  to  do  until  she  called  me  over  to  them. 
It  was  he  who  exacted  the  oath,  Donald.  I  suppose 
it  was  the  fantasy  of  a  dying  man." 

His  eyes  lighted  up  with  sudden  hope. 

"You  did  not  exact  it,  Mildred?  It  was  all  his 
doing?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  Donald." 

"Then — then  you  will  absolve  her  from  her  oath, 
Mildred?"  he  cried. 

Mildred  looked  as  if  she  did  not  understand. 

"I  absolve  her?  Why,  I  cannot  do  that,  Donald 
Bear.  No  one  can  absolve  her  from  it.  But  what 


w,  «*•„. 

180          ;'I.  Will  Not  Give  You  Up." 

does  it  matter?  I  did  not  know  it  was  weighing  ori 
her." 

He  clinched  his  hands  impatiently. 

"Can  you  not  understand,  Mildred?  The  oath  was 
not  fair.  No  one  had  the  right  to  ask  it  of  her.  Andi 
you  can  absolve  her." 

"Oh,  no,  Donald,  that  is  not  possible.  It  was  art 
Oath  taken  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  and  only  Heaven 
can  absolve  her.  But  surely  it  cannot  matter.  It 
seemed  a  strange  thing  in  papa,  but  I  supposed  it  was 
no  more  than  a  fancy  of  a  dying  man." 

Donald  took  several  paces  across  the  room  and  re- 
turned again. 

"Perhaps  I  do  not  make  myself  understood.  I  will 
be  more  explicit.  I  may  not  use  the  proper  terms. 
I  will  try  to  do  so.  It  may  be  that  you  cannot  ab- 
solve her  from  her  oath,  but  you  can  make  it  of  no 
consequence  if  you  will." 

"If  I  will!"  she  repeated  reproachfully.  "As  if 
there  was  anything  I  would  not  do  for  our  dear  little 
Goldie.  What  can  I  do,  Donald?" 

"The  oath,  I  believe,  was  that  she  should  not  come 
between  you  and  me?" 

"That  was  the  substance  of  it,  at  least." 

"Mildred,  a  marriage  without  love  on  both  sides  is 
iwicked,"  he  said. 


"I  Will  Not  Give  You  Up."  181 

She  understood  him,  but  pretended  not  to. 
"Are  you  not  a  little  hard  on  Goldie?"  she  asked. 
'I  think  she  cared  a  little  for  papa.  Of  course  he  was 
old  and  his  money  must  have  been  a  terrible  tempta- 
ion  to  her.  But  consider  that  she  was  only  a  fac- 
;ory  girl,  with  nothing  better  than  a  life  of  hard  work 
>efore  her.  How  can  you  blame  her?  I  do  not. 
What  she  did  was  natural/' 

"She  did  not  marry  him  for  his  money/'  he  cried 
angrily.     "She  was  driven  to  do  it  by  the  perfidy  of 
the  man  she  loved.    His  seeming  perfidy,  at  least." 
"Ah!"  was  all  Mildred  said. 

"Mildred,  that  man  was  I.     I  loved  her,  and  she 
oved  me,  but  I  was  insensate  enough,  wicked  enough 
not  to  believe  her  good  enough  for  me,  and  so  to  be 
sure  that  I  would  not  in  the  madness  of  my  love  ask 
ler  to  be  my  wife,  I  did  you  the  wrong  of  proposing  to 
ou." 

Mildred's  eyes  were  flaming.  It  was  awful  to  be 
;old  in  plain  words  that  he  did  not  love  her  at  all,  and 
lid  love  Goldie.  She  had  known  it  before.  She  had 
been  sure  of  it,  but  it  was  almost  more  than  she  could 
bear  to  be  told  so  to  her  face,  and  by  him. 

By  a  terrible  effort  she  maintained  her  command 
oi  fierself.  Not  for  a  moment  did  she  dream  of  letting 
iim  go  from  her. 


c     ;  -  / 

IV, 

182  "I  Will  Not  Give  You  Up." 

"Donald,"  she  said,  "you  are  not  yourself.  I  fear 
you  have  been  ill." 

He  stared  at  her.    Had  he  not  made  himself  plaint 

"111!"  he  repeated  vehemently.  "I  have  been  near, 
to  injidness  because  of  the  wrong  I  have  done.  I  have 
wandered  I  know  not  whither  these  days  past,  trying 
to  understand  myself,  and  to  know  what  I  should  do. 
I  thought  I  had  lost  my  darling,  and  I  knew  I  loved 
her  and  only  her. 

"Then  I  learned  that  your  father  was  dead,  and 
that  she  was  free  once  more.  Was  it  not  like  a  mes- 
sage from  Heaven?  I  determined  at  once  to  come 
here  and  confess  everything  to  you  and  to  her. 

"I  said  to  myself  that  you  would  release  me,  and 
she  would  give  me  back  the  love  I  had  forfeited.  So 
I  saw  her  to-day,  and  she  told  me  of  her  oath,  and 
reminded  me  of  my  betrothal  to  you.  I  told  her  you, 
would  release  me,  and  that  that  act  would  release  her,' 
too.  You  will  do  this,  Mildred?" 

"What  did  she  answer  to  you,  Donald?" 

"She  said  you  would  not  release  me,  but  she  was 
mistaken,  was  she  not?" 

"She  was  not  mistaken,  Donald;  she  was  right.  I 
will  never  release  you.  I  love  you,  and  I  shall  wed 
you.  In  time  you  will  love  me  as  you  did,  and  rfie 
will  wed  another.  Donald,  I  will  not  give  you  up." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

TRUE    TO     HER    OATH. 

Donald  Irwin  did  not  really  know  the  nature  of  the 
girl  to  whom  he  was  betrothed,  or  he  would  not  have 
been  so  bitterly  disappointed  as  he  was  when  he  lis- 
tened to  her  firm  words  of  refusal  to  give  him  back 
his  freedom. 

He  was  almost  dumfounded  when  she  spoke  so 
positively.  It  had  not  occurred  to  him  as  possible  that 
any  woman  would  care  to  hold  a  man  who  confessed 
fiis  love  for  another. 

For  a  few  moments  he  gazed  at  her  as  if  he  ex- 
pected her  to  open  her  lips  to  recall  the  words  she  had 
spoken.  But  she  did  not  speak  at  all.  She  had 
thought  the  matter  all  out,  and  was  not  going  to  give 
«up  the  man  she  loved  with  a  passion  which  had  be- 
come little,  if  anything,  short  of  insanity. 

"Mildred,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "you  could  not  have 
(Understood  me.  I  tell  you  I  love  Goldie,  and  can 
toever,  never  love  you  or  any  other  than  her." 

Donald,"  she  answered,  veiling  her  flaming  eyes 
»rkh  their  coal-black  lashes,  "I  did  not  misunderstand1 
You  tell  me  that  you  do  not  love  me,  and  ask  me 

give  you  up  to  another.     I  answer  you  that  I  will 
give  you  up." 


184  True  to  Her  "Oath. 


now? 


True  to  Her  Oath.  185 

ere  he  could  stay  her  movements,  she  had  thrown  her 
arms  about  his  neck,  "I  love  you  with  such  a  love  as 
surely  no  other  woman  is  capable  of.  Do  not  try  to 
break  from  me.  Give  me  your  hand,  and  the  love  will 
grow  in  your  heart  until  it  equals  mine. 

"You  think  you  love  Goldie  because  she  is  pretty  in 
a  milk-and-rose,  babyish  way ;  but  she  is  no  fit  mate 
for  you,  my  Donald.  It  is  I  who  can  most  worthily 
bear  your  name.  And,  oh,  Donald,  I  love  you  with  all 
my  heart  and  soul.  For  you  I  would  give  up  all  the 
world.  Donald,  dear,  fight  against  a.n  infatuation 
which  would  lead  you  to  break  your  word.  Remem-» 
ber  that  by  solemn  oath  she  is  pledged  not  to  be  yours. 
Think  how  I  love  you !" 

Impassioned  as  her  words  were,  her  voice  and  man-* 
ner  made  them  even  more  surcharged  with  passion,  SO 
that  they  seemed  to  throb  and  vibrate  with  the  emotion 
that  shook  her  whole  beirjg. 

Donald  listened,  and  knew  that  she  had  given  him 
all  her  heart;  that  she  had  merged  her  life  into  his 
and  could  never  again  love  another.  He  knew  this 
without  being  conscious  of  the  fact,  for  his  heart  wag 
cold  toward  her,  and  beat  only  for  Goldie. 

He  was  like  one  who  does  an  act  of  madness,  white 
knowing  of  what  he  is  guilty.  He  knew  he  was  -bonnet 
to  her,  but  his  heart  eried  for  Goldie. 


186  True  to  Her  Oath. 

He  unloosed  the  arms  that  twined  with  such  loving 
passion  about  his  neck,  and  put  her  from  him  with 
more  force  than  he  was  aware  of. 

"Why  reason  with  one  who  is  deaf  to  all  cries  but 
those  of  an  aching,  love-maddened  heart  ?"  he  said, 
hoarsely.  "You  tell  me  of  your  love,  but  I  can  only; 
answer  with  a  story  of  my  own. 

"You  tell  me  that  I  am  pledged  to  you  and  that  she 
Is  bound  by  an  oath.  Yes,  I  am  pledged  to  you ;  but 
is  such  a  pledge  one  that  should  be  kept? 

"You  think  I  would  learn  to  love  you;  I  tell  you, 
Mildred,  I  would  hate  you  worse  than  ever  man  hated! 
woman  before,  if  I  were  tied  to  you  by  such  bonds  as 
those  of  wedlock. 

"Her  oath !  You  can  break  that.  Give  me  my  f  ree- 
fdom,  Mildred,  and  her  oath  is  dissolved.  Surely  you 
would  not  have  me  wed  you  to  hate  you." 

"At  any  cost/'  she  said  between  her  closed  teeth, 
"I  will  wed  you,  Donald.  Aye!  I  would  wed  you 
though  I  knew  destruction  would  follow  the  next 
moment,  though  your  hate  would  end  in  my  blood, 
though  an  eternity  of  woe  were  my  doom  for  it 
Donald,  you  must  be  mine. 

"I  will  not  dissolve  the  oath  that  binds  her,  nor  will 
I  give  you  back  your  plighted  troth.  You  are  mine 
before  Heaven,  and  mine  you  shall  be  to  the  end." 


True  to  Her  Oath.  187 

She  could  hardly  refrain  from  bursting  forth  into 
a  tirade  of  hate  and  envenomed  fury  against  Goldie, 
but  she  had  enough  self-control  not  to  do  so,  though 
in  her  heart  she  was  all  the  while  vowing  the  direst 
vengeance  on  the  innocent  girl. 

Donald  placed  his  hands  before  his  eyes  as  if  to  hide 
a  vision  that  came  up  before  them,  then  with  a  vehe- 
ment gesture  he  ejaculated : 

"I  will  not  wed  you,  Mildred.  It  would  be  a  crime 
far  greater  than  the  breaking  of  my  word  to  you.  It 
would  be  worse  than  the  breaking  of  her  oath  to  your 
father.  What  right  had  he  to  enact  such  an  oath? 
None,  none;  and  she  shall  not  abide  by  it.  She  shall 
give  her  hand  to  me,  who  already  has  her  heart.  I 
will  make  her  mine  in  spite  of  you." 

Mildred  caught  him  by  the  arm,  and  detained  him 
as  he  was  turning  away.  The  red  color  burned  in  her 
olive  cheeks  like  spots  of  flame,  and  her  voice  vibrated 
with  passion. 

"Donald!"  she  said,  "beware  what  you  do!  You 
are  not  only  bringing  on  yourself  the  curse  of  Heaven, 
but  you  are  rousing  against  yourself  and  her  the  worst 
.passions  of  the  arch-fiend  himself." 

He  recoiled  before  her  terrific  expression,  but  broke 
[from  her  restraining  grasp,  and  strode  to  the  door. 

"I  will  wed  her,"  he  said  hoarsely — "I  would  do  it 


i88  True  to  Her  Oath. 

though  the  gates  of  the  bottomless  pit  yawned  at  my 
feet.  Our  love  is  appointed  by  fate,  and  cannot  be 
subdued.  Our  hands  were  joined  in  heaven,  and  can- 
not be  torn  asunder  by  a  base  trick  concocted  in  the 
brain  of  a  scheming  woman,  and  forced  upon  a  shrink- 
ing girl  at  the  deathbed  of  one  who  held  no  claim 
upon  her!" 

He  burst  from  the  room  as  he  spoKe,  and  Mildred1 
heard  him  going  up  the  great  staircase,  and  did  not 
doubt  that  he  was  going  to  see  if  he  could  not  per- 
suade Goldie  to  view  the  matter  as  he  saw  it. 

She  raised  her  bloodshot  eyes  upward  as  if  she 
would  see  through  the  ceiling  to  where  the  lovers 
would  be,  and  shook  her  clinched  hands. 

"My  bitter — bitter  curses  on  her  for  what  she  has 
done  to  me!"  she  hissed;  "but  I  will  see  to  it  that  he 
never  enjoys  what  he  denies  to  me." 

The  blackest  and  most  awful  thoughts  were  in  her 
heart.  But  she  would  not  be  precipitate — she  would 
not  destroy  her  chance  of  a  terrible  vengeance  on 
Goldie  by  betraying  herself. 

She  waited  only  to  compose  herself,  and  then  glided1 
from  the  room  and  up  the  stairs.  She  must  know 
what  passed  between  Goldie  and  Donald. 

He  had  entered  the  little  parlor  attached  to  Goldie's 


True  to  Her  Oatlt.  189 

apartments,  and  was  talking  to  her  he  loved.  Mildred 
could  hear  their  words  from  the  hall. 

"Goldie,"  she  heard  him  say,  "she  will  not  release 
me ;  but  yet  you  must  consent  to  be  mine.  Heaven 
brought  us  together,  and  it  would  be  a  crime  to  remain 
apart/' 

"Donald,"  was  the  answer;  given  in  low  but  pene- 
trating tones,  "it  cannot  be.  Not  for  your  happiness 
or  mine  will  I  break  my  oath  to  the  dying  man.  But, 
ah!  go  from  me,  and  do  not  tempt  me  further,  for  if 
I  should  yield  in  an  evil  moment  of  weakness,  sorrow 
and  woe  eternal  would  be  my  portion.  Go,  Donald! 
and  make  her  your  wife!" 

"I  will  not,  Goldie.  You  and  only  you  must  bear 
my  name/' 

"Donald,  if  you  would  hold  the  love  you  have  won, 
you  will  act  the  only  part  an  honorable  man  can ;  you 
will  wed  her,  though  you  cannot  love  her." 

"I  would  hate  her!" 

"Have  you  said  that  to  her,  Donald?"  was  the  eager 
query,  as  if  a  ray  of  hope  had  illumined  her  despair. 

"I  have  told  her,  and  she  only  insists  that  still  I 
must  wed  her." 

"Donald,"  said  poor  little  Goldie,  wearily,  "all  this 
is  killing  me.  I  cannot  bear  it  much  longer.  I  cannot 
struggle  against  you  forever,  but  I  can  die,  and  I  shall 


190  True  to  Her  Oath. 

pray  Heaven  that  I  may  die  before  I  am  tempted  to 
yield  to  your  wishes." 

"You  cannot  resist  fate,  Goldie,"  was  his  gloomy 
answer. 

"Fate!"  she  cried,  in  an  anguished  tone.  "If  it  was 
'fate  that  brought  us  together,  who  shall  say  that  it 
was  not  fate  that  tore  us  apart?  Ah,  Donald,  it  was 
in  your  power  to  bring  happiness  to  us  both,  and  you 
threw  the  opportunity  away!  This  is  perhaps  your 
punishment." 

"I  was  wicked,  but  that  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
be  made  to  suffer."  v 

"Reason!  why  speak  of  reason?  It  is  fate,  and  we 
must  bow  to  it." 

"Goldie  dear,  why  not  see  this  as  I  see  it?  Cast 
aside  your  fears,  and  wed  me.  We  will  go  far  away 
from  here  where -" 

"Donald,  you  but  make  my  anguish  harder  to  bear. 
I  will  not  wed  you." 

"Then,"  he  said  vehemently,  "I  will  wait  for  you 
until  Mildred  is  dead,-  or  wedded  to  another." 

Goldie  shook  her  head  feebly,  while  the  great  tears 
gathered  in  her  eyes. 

"That  would  not  be  removing  my  obligations.  I 
swore  that  I  would  not  stand^ between  you  two;  and 
Heaven  helping  me,  I  will  not.  Wed  her,  Donald,  andi 
give  me  what  little  peace  is  possible  for  me,  or  leave 


True  to  Her  Oath.  191 

her  unwed,  and  let  me  feel  my  life  a  curse.  Say  that 
you  will  wed  her,  Donald !" 

He  turned  away  and  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands.  Then  suddenly  he  cried  out: 

"I  will  wed  her  because  you  bid  me ;  but  the  weight 
of  two  broken  hearts  shall  be  on  her  soul/' 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"YOU    WILL  WED    ME    NOW !" 

Mildred  glided  from  the  spot  where  she  had  stood: 

to  listen,  a  look  of  hate  and  triumph  on  her  face. 

i 

Another  would  have  been  grateful  to  Goldie  for  the 
high  and  lofty  spirit  which  had  animated  her  to  give  ' 
iup  her  own  happiness,  and  accept  misery  for  her  por- 
tion rather  than  break  her  oath.  But  in  the  heart  of 
:  Mildred  was. only  the  blackest  hate  and  most  violent 
passions. 

She  believed  that  Donald  would  wed  her  now;  but 
1  even  after  what  had  happened,  she  did  not  trust  Goldie. 

"She  gives  him  up  now/'  she  muttered;  "but  she 
confessed  herself  that  she  would  not  always  be  able  to 
resist.  She  said  it  to  hold  him  from  keeping  his  word 
to  me.  She  hoped  he  would  understand  the  subtle 
meaning  of  her  words,  and  strive  on  until  he  forced 
a  consent  from  her  seemingly  reluctant  lips.  The  lit- 
Itle  hypocrite!" 

She  had  retreated  to  her  own  room,  and  was  gliding 

up  and  down  it  with  the  silent  steps  of  a  tigress,  when 

her  maid  entered  to  say  that  Donald  asked  to  see  her. 

I      "Oh,  that  I  could  play  my  part  to  win  his  love  as 

well  as  his  hand!"  she  murmured. 


"You  Will  Wed  Me  Now!"  193 

She  bade  her  maid  tell  him  she  would  be  instantly 
down,  and  then  made  a  new  toilet,  which  she  hoped 
would  at  least  soften  his  heart  toward  her. 

But  when  she  went  down  and  saw  him  pacing  the 
floor  of  the  reception-room  like  a  caged  lion,  she  knew 
that  his  heart  was  filled  with  anger. 

And  when  he  turned  on  her  at  the  sound  of  her 
footsteps,  and  she  saw  the  expression  of  his  face,  her 
heart  sank. 

"Mildred,"  he  said  harshly,  "I  left  you  a  few  min- 
utes ago  saying  I  would  not  wed  you.  I  thought  I 
tould  make  Goldie  see  as  I  did,  but  she  will  not.  She 
insists  that  I  wed  you.  So  I  have  sent  for  you  to  say 
that  I  will  fulfill  my  promise  to  you  and  make  you 
my  wife/1  , 

"Oh,  Donald!"  she  murmured,  gliding  closer  to  him 
as  if  she  would  lay  a  caressing  hand  on  his  arm. 

He  stepped  back  with  a  look  of  intense  scorn  and 
dislike. 

"Do  not  touch  me.  I  tell  you  I  will  wed  you,  but 
also  I  must  tell  you  that  I  shall  always  hate  you.  I 
shall  never  forgive  you  for  separating  me  from  my 
love.  Will  you  dare  to  wed  me,  knowing  this?" 

"I  would  wed  you,  Donald,  though  I  knew  death 

would  be  my  instant  fate.     For  hate  me  though  you 

may,  Donald,  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul." 

>      He  was  not  touched  by  her  words,  for  in  a  vague 


194  "You  Will  Wed  Me  Now!" 

way  he  could  seem  to  comprehend  that  they  were  not 
the  words  of  such  a  woman  as  any  man  could  love. 

He  could  not  deny  that  in  a  way  she  had  justice  on 
her  side.  And  yet  he  seemed  to  recognize  the  dark, 
turbulent  soul  that  animated  the  passionate  creature. 

Perhaps,  if  he  could  really  have  read  her  soul 
aright,  not  even  the  prayers  and  entreaties  of  Goldie 
would  have  held  him  to  his  promise.  He  would  have 
felt  toward  her  more  as  one  instinctively  feels  toward 
the  venomous  reptile  that  crawls  in  all  its  glittering, 
sinuous  beauty  toward  the  unconscious  object  of  its 
attack. 

"Have  it  as  you  will,  then,"  he  said  curtly.  "I  will 
wed  you." 

"Were  it  not  better/'  she  asked  pleadingly,  "to  set 
a  time." 

He  laughed  bitterly. 

"And  do  you  think  I  will  set  the  time?  Does  the 
condemned  man  say  when  his  doom  shall  be?" 

A  flush  of  shame  and  partly  of  anger  rose  to  her 
cheeks  as  this  scornful  answer  fell  on  her  ears,  but  she 
did  not  flinch  from  her  purpose. 

"Will  you  abide  by  my  wish?"  she  asked  in  a  low 
tone,  her  eyes  flashing  with  a  strange  look. 

"You  shall  do  as  you  will,"  he  replied.     "It  is  for 
you  to  say,  and  for  me  only  to  acquiesce." 
*  "It  is  a  hard  task  you  set  me,  Donald." 


"You  Will  Wed  Me  Now!"  195 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  answered  in  the  curt 
that  had  so  suddenly  come  to  him : 

"You  need  not  perform  it.     You  know  that/' 

"But  it  must  be  performed/'  she  said;  "and  if  you 
will  not,  I  will,  though  it  is  a  strange  thing  for  a 
maiden  to  play  such  a  part." 

His  eyes  flamed  angrily. 

"Your  part  all  through  has  been  unmaidenly,  if  you 
will  force  me  to  say  so.  Shall  I  receive  word  from 
you  when  the  day  is  to  be?  I  would  prefer  not  to 
come  here  again." 

"My  mind  is  already  made  up,"  she  responded.  "I 
can  tell  you  now." 

He  looked  at  her  with  cold  inquiry,  but  did  not 
speak. 

"Will  you  accept  my  choice  of  a  time  ?"  she  asked. 

He  did  not  note  her  strange  expression.  He  was 
only  thinking  her  unwomanly  and  unlovely.  He  won- 
dered how  he  ever  could  have  dreamed  of  making  her 
his  wife. 

"I  have  told  you  to  set  the  time,"  he  answered  con- 
temptuously; "I  shall  not  find  fault  with  it." 

Her  eyes  gleamed  strangely  and  her  bosom  heaved 
tumultuously  as  she  said  in  a  voice  that  was  husky  with 
emotion  and  suppressed  passion : 

"The  time  I  set  is  now — this  very  hour!" 

He  started  and  stared  at  her  with  fiery  eyes;  then 


196  :'You  Will  Wed  Me  Now!" 

opened  his  lips  as  if  he  would  speak  to  repudiate  her 
decision. 

She  watched  him  with  eager  gaze  and  parted  lips,  as 
if  she  feared  that  he  would  repent  of  his  willingness, 
but  he  checked  the  words  that  seemingly  had  formed 
on  his  lips,  and  with  a  curl  of  his  lip  and  a  contemptu- 
ous shrug  of  his  broad  shoulders*  said : 

"So  be  it !  now.    I  am  at  your  disposal !" 

She  swallowed  a  lump  that  had  risen  in  her  throat, 
and  with  a  cry  of  joy  she  could  not  suppress  ran  to- 
ward him. 

"Oh,  Donald,  you  will  go  with  me  now  ?  You  will 
wed  me  this  very  hour?" 

"Why  should  I  delay  the  evil  hour?  As  well  now 
as  any  other  time.  It  will  not  matter  either  to  you  or 
to  me." 

She  knew  there  was  a  hidden  meaning  in  his  words, 
but  she  was  too  full  of  the  affair  before  her  to  study 
out  what  that  meaning  was. 

She  ran  from  the  room,  and  he  could  hear  her  order 
the  carriage  and  then  speed  swiftly  up  the  stairs. 

"Goldie,"  he  murmured,  raising  his  eyes  toward 
where  he  knew  her  to  be,  "I  am  keeping  my  promise, 
and  obeying  you,  but  if  misery  and  despair  come  to  all 
of  us  in  consequence,  Heaven  make  your  burden  as 
light  as  possible.  I  see  no  other  way,  or  I  would  not) 
adopt  this  one." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A   WIFE    ONLY    IN    NAME ! 

"Get  me  out  my  white  satin  gown!"  Mildred  said  to 
her  maid,  as  she  swept  into  her  dressing  room,  her 
black  eyes  glittering  like  stars. 

The  girl  stared  at  her,  but  did  not  dare  offer  any 
remark,  though  she  did  not  yet  believe  that  her  mis- 
tress had  any  thought  of  wearing  the  garment  she  had 
called  for.  She  went  swiftly  and  drew  the  gown  from 
its  place,  wondering*  what  use  her  mistress  would  put 
it  to. 

"Quickly!"  Mildred  cried  impatiently.  "How  you 
creep !  and  I  am  in  a  hurry.  Get  me  all  that  goes  with 
the  gown,  for  I  am  going  to  wear  it." 

"Wear  it!"  gasped  the  girl,  staring  now  as  if  she 
thought  Mildred  was  taking  leave  of  her  senses. 

"Yes,  wear  it,"  cried  Mildred,  her  voice  rising  in 
a  shrill  note  of  triumph.  "Do  you  think  I  would  be 
wedded  in  black  ?  It  is  unlucky  to  wear  black  at  one's 
wedding." 

"Married,  Miss  Mildred!" 

"That  is  what  I  said,  girl.  Come!  be  swift,  or  Mr. 
Irwin  will  be  impatient  at  being  kept  waiting." 

"You  are  going  to  marry  Mr.  Irwin,  miss?     How 


198  A  Wife  Only  in  Name! 

sudden!  But  I  am  sure  every  one  will  wish  you  luck 
and  congratulate  you." 

"Yes,  yes.  We  were  engaged,  you  know,  before 
poor  papa  died.  See,  here  is  the  ring.  But  of  course 
you  knew  that.  Papa  had  told  him  that  he  wished  me 
married  at  once,  it  seems,  and  so  dear  Donald  has  per- 
suaded me  to  wed  him  now." 

The  girl  wondered  that  her  mistress  should  suddenly 
become  so  communicative,  but  the  truth  did  not  dawn 
on  her. 

She  hastened  her  preparations  for  the  toilet,  and  ere 
many  minutes  had  elapsed,  Mildred  was  arrayed  in 
white. 

She  was  beautiful.  No  one  could  gainsay  that,  and 
<$he  knew  it  as  she  looked  in  the  huge  mirror  that  oc- 
cupied one  corner  of  the  dressing  room. 

Mildred  laughed  feverishly,  and  told  the  girl  that 
she  might  take  the  new  mourning  dress  she  had  had 
made. 

"For,"  she  said,  with  a  laugh  rather  of  triumph 
than  of  joy,  "I  shall  wear  black  no  more,  short  as  the 
time  is.  It  would  not  be  right  to  Donald." 

She  was  ready  now  to  go  down  to  Donald,  and  she 
went  as  she  was,  unable  yet  to  realize  that  she  could 
make  no  impression  on  him. 

"When  he  sees  me  thus,"  she  murmured  to  herself, 
"he  surely  will  think  I  am  beautiful,  and  worthy  of  his 


A  Wife  Only  in  Name!  199 

love.  Men  love  beauty,  and  he  shall  always  see  me 
so.  Then  he  will  learn  in  time  to  admire  and  love  me 
again."  » 

But  before  she  went  down,  there  came  into  her 
brain  another  idea:  She  would  go  to  Goldie,  and 
tander  the  pretense  of  acquainting  her  with  the  news 
of  the  approaching  wedding,  would  gloat  over  her 
misery. 

So  she  bade  her  maid  prepare  everything  so  that 
she  could  throw  her  wraps  on  in  a  moment,  and  then 
glided  along  the  hallway  and  tapped  at  the  door  of 
Goldie's  room. 

She  did  not  wait  for  permission  to  enter,  but  burst 
in  with  a  false  smile  on  her  face,  and  glided  over  to 
the  darkened  corner  where  Goldie  lay,  her  face  in  her 
hands. 

"Goldie,  Goldie!"  she  cried;  "forgive  me  for  arous- 
ing you  if  you  were  sleeping,  but  you  must  tell  me 
how  I  look.  See!" 

Goldie  brushed  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  and  looked 
wearily  around  at  Mildred;  starting  back  at  the 
strange  sight  of  the  white  garments,  as  if  the  latter 
were  dressed  for  a  ball. 

Her  eyes  swept  over  the  imperious  beauty  from  her 
head  to  her  feet  and  back  again.  Then  she  asked  in 
a  voice  that  was  scarcely  audible : 

"Why  are  you  dressed  thus?" 


2OO  A  Wife  Only  in  Name ! 

"Tell  me  first  that  I  look  well.  Say  that  you  think 
me  beautiful!" 

"You  are  beautiful,  Mildred.  I  think  you  are  the 
most  beautiful  woman  I  ever  saw.  But  why  are  you 
dressed  thus?" 

"For  my  wedding,  Goldie." 

A  little  cry  escaped  Goldie's  lips,  and  she  sank  bade 
with  her  little  hand,  upon  her  heart. 

"Your  wedding?" 

"Yes;  for  my  wedding,  Goldie,  dear.  Donald  has 
asked  me  to  wed  him  at  once,  and  I  could  not  refuse 
him.  Will  you  not  come  along  and  be  a  witness  for 
me?" 

Goldie  turned  her  face  away  and  moaned: 

"Go!  Go!  May  you  be  happy  with  him,  Mildred 
I  cannot  go  with  you.  Oh,  go,  go !" 

A  wicked  smile  of  fierce  joy  passed  over  the  darkly 
beautiful  face.  She  had  tortured  her  victim,  and  it 
made  her  happy. 

She  went  down  to  the  reception-room  again,  ex- 
pecting to  see  Donald  pacing  the  floor  as  he  had  been 
doing  before;  but  he  was  standing  in  front  of  the 
window,  with  his  coat  on  and  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

She  could  not  see  his  face,  his  back  being  toward 
her,  but  she  spoke  his  name  gently,  and  he  turned  de- 
liberately around,  as  if  ready  to  go  with  her. 

She  expected  his  eyes  to  light  up  at  the  sight  of  her 


A  Wife  Only  in  Name !  201 

beautiful  toilet,  and  she  studied  his  face  eagerly,  but 
it  was  like  that  of  a  graven  image.  He  saw  that  she 
had  made  herself  beautiful,  but  he  looked  coldly  at  her 
for  a  moment,  and  then  said  grimly: 

"I  am  ready  at  any  time." 

A  pang  of  pain  shot  to  Mildred's  heart  and  pierced 
it.  She  felt  as  if  she  had  shot  one  precious  shaft  only 
to  see  it  fall  to  the  ground  without  effect. 

'The  carriage  waits,"  she  said  faintly,  and  glided 
miserably  from  the  room. 

She  composed  her  face  ere  she  reached  the  hall, 
where  her  maid  awaited  her. 

Donald  looked  on  without  making  any  show  of  as- 
sisting her.  Her  maid  was  sufficient  for  the  task  of 
putting  on  the  cloak,  so  why  should  he  pretend  a  gal- 
lantry he  did  not  feel? 

When  the  cloak  was  on  and  Mildred  was  ready,  he 
offered  her  his  arm  in  a  cold,  hard  way  that  made  the 
color  leap  to  her  cheeks  and  then  disappear,  leaving  a 
dull  pallor. 

It  was  she  who  told  him  the  address  of  the  clergy- 
man she  had  chosen  to  perform  the  ceremony,  and 
Donald  only  repeated  the  address  after  her  to  the 
footman. 

Mildred  was  suffering  a  terrible  humiliation,  and  it 
seemed  to  her  raging  spirit  as  if  she  must  have  hated 


A  Wife  Only  in  Name  I 

him,   were  it  not  that  Goldie  afforded  her  a  better 
object  for  her  fury  to  vent  itself  on. 

"I  will  make  her  suffer  a  thousand  times  all  that  he 
makes  me  suffer  now,"  she  murmured  to  herself. 

She  spoke  to  him  and  he  answered  in  grim  mono-_ 
syllables.    Even  her  hard  spirit  quailed  at  the  thought 
of  such  a  wedding  as  this  promised  to  be,  but  there 
was  no  thought  of  hanging  back. 

She  would  first  make  him  irrevocably  hers,  and  win 
his  love  afterward,  though  she  could  not  repress  a 
shudder  as  she  glanced  furtively  at  his  set,  rigid  face. 

It  looked  like  the  countenance  of  one  who  had  bid- 
den farewell  to  every  human  emotion.  It  was  stem 
and  implacable,  too,  as  if  it  hid  a  hard,  bitter  purpose. 

When  the  carriage  stopped,  and  she  saw  that  the 
house  of  the  clergyman  was  reached,  she  laid  her  hand 
on  his  arm,  and  pleaded: 

"Donald,  will  not  you  speak  to  the  clergyman?" 

He  looked  down  into  her  face  without  the  quiver 
of  a  muscle,  and  answered  coldly: 

"The  marriage  is  of  your  making.  If  it  had  been 
of  mine,  I  would  do  as  you  ask.  As  it  is,  you  must  tell 
the  clergyman  all  you  wish  him  to  know.  It  will  noi 
matter  to  me  if  you  tell  him  naught." 

Oh,  the  bitter,  stinging  humiliation  of  her  position  I 
But  Mildred  only  bit  her  lip  until  the  blood  all  bul 


A  Wife  Only  in  Name!  203 

spurted  from  the  pressure,  and  started  toward  the 
house,  murmuring: 

"I  will  do  that.  I  will  do  anything  to  win  you, 
Donald.  There  is  no  humiliation  I  will  not  suffer  to 
call  you  by  the  name  of  husband.  I  will  be  your  slave, 
and  win  your  love  in  spite  of  you/' 

He  did  not  answer,  but  followed  unmoved  to  the 
door. 

They  were  admitted  into  the  house,  and  were  taken 
into  the  parlors  of  the  rectory,  where  they  were  pre- 
sently joined  by  the  venerable  clergyman. 

He  looked  at  them  both,  and  seemed  to  divine  their 
purpose  there.  He  smiled  benignly,  and  looked  at 
Donald  again,  as  if  expecting  him  to  reveal  the  aftair 
that  had  brought  them  thither. 

Mildred  hoped  he  would  take  pity  on  her  and  speak, 
but  he  only  answered  the  astonished  clergyman's  look 
by  a  stony  stare.  Then  Mildred  gathered  courage  to 
say  in  a  low  tone : 

"We  have  come  to  be  married,  sir.  May,  we  ask 
you  to  officiate?" 

The  clergyman  turned  to  her,  and  then  back  again 
to  Donald,  saying  wonderingly : 

"You  have  come  to  be  wedded  to  this  lady,  sir?" 

"Yes." 

"I  beg  you  will  hasten,"  Mildred  murmured  nerv- 
ouslv. 


204  A  Wife  Only  in  Name! 

The  good  man  stared  and  thought  he  had  never 
seen  so  strange  a  pair  on  such  an  errand  before.  But 
there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  refuse  if  there 
was  no  obstacle  to  their  union,  so  he  procured  his  blank 
form  and  asked  all  the  prescribed  questions. 

They  were  answered  satisfactorily,  if  somewhat 
curtly  by  Donald,  and  then  witnesses  were  brought  in. 

Donald  stotfd  up  by  the  side  of  Mildred  when  the 
clergyman  told  him  it  was  time  for  him  to  do  £o,  and 
the  ceremony  was  proceeded  with. 

Surely  so  strange  a  wedding  never  was  before.  The 
good  clergyman  said  afterward  that  he  felt  far  more 
as  if  he  were  reading  the  funeral  service. 

But  Donald  never  failed  in  his  responses,  icily  as 
they  were  spoken,  and  the  two  were  made  one ;  though 
when  the  blessing  on  them  was  pronounced  it  could  be 
seen  that  on -the  lips  of  the  groom  there  was  a  sneer, 
as  if  he  derided  the  notion  of  a  blessing  on  such  a 
union. 

Troubled  and  doubtful  the  clergyman  pronounced 
them  man  and  wife,  and  when  Mildred  looked  plead- 
ingly at  Donald  as  if  asking  him  to  salute  her  as  his 
wife,  it  was  the  old  man  who  summoned  up  courage 
to  say: 

"Accept  my  congratulations,  Mrs.  Irwin." 

Then  he  kissed  her  in  a  fatherly  way  and  drew 
back. 


A  Wife  Only  in  Name!  205 

"Donald !"  murmured  Mildred,  piteously. 

He  looked  sternly  at  her,  and  held  his  hand  out  to 
keep  her  from  coming  nearer  to  him  as  she  seemedl 
about  to  do. 

"Stop!  You  are  my  wife  in  the  eyes  of  the  law, 
and  can  bear  my  name.  You  have  certain  rights  in 
my  property  according  to  the  law  also.  I  will  learn 
what  they  are  and  see  that  you  have  all  that  is  legally 
yours.  I  shall  then  have  done  all' that  is  required  of; 
me  by  my  promise. 

"You  are  my  wife,  Mildred.  You  are  my  wife  be- 
cause I  had  asked  you  to  be  such,  and  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  I  told  you  I  did  not  and  never  could  love 
you. 

"Hush!  do  not  speak!  These  good  people  have 
seen  you  made  my  wife,  and  it  is  before  them  that  I 
must  say  what  I  desire  to. 

"You  are  my  wife,  and  I  say  too  that,  wife  though! 
you  are,  you  shall  be  so  only  in  name.  And  now  we 
part  forever.  Farewell!" 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

"l  KNOW   HOW  TO  AVENGE  MYSELF  !" 

After  uttering-  the  word  farewell  to  Mildred,  Donald 
cast  one  grim  look  at  her  pale,  imploring-  face,  and 
strode  from  the  room. 

"Sir!  my  dear  sir!'*  ejaculated  the  clergyman,  while 
Mildred,  with  a  gasp  of  misery,  only  held  out  her 
hands  toward  him. 

"How  awful!  how  cruel !"  cried  the  good  clergy- 
man's wife. 

"He  is  mad!"  murmured  the  daughter,  who  had 
been  one  of  the  witnesses. 

Donald  stopped  in  the  hall,  and  turned  as  if  to  utter 
one  last  word. 

No  one  in  the  room  spoke,  so  much  were  they  af- 
fected by  consternation  and  a  painful  curiosity  to 
hear  what  he  would  say. 

He  had  not  heard  their  comments  on  his  conduct, 
and  if  he  had  heard  them,  it  is  unlikely  that  he  would 
have  given  them  enough  weight  to  care  to  answer 
them. 

'Mildred,"  he  said  sternly,  "it  may  occur  to  you 
that  time  will  conquer  my  hatred  of  you,  and  will 
dispose  me  to  feel  differently  toward  you,  Do  not  de- 


"I  Know  How  to  Avenge  Myself!"     207 

hide  yourself  with  any  such  vain  thought.  I  shall 
never  return  to  you.  Farewell  forever !" 

"Oh,  Donald,  my  dearest  love !"  she  wailed. 

He  did"  not  hear,  and  if  he  had  would  not  havt 
heeded.  With  his  last  word  he  strode  from  the  house, 
and  the  only  response  to  her  anguished  words  was 
the  slamming  of  the  street  door. 

"He  is  gone!"  she  cried  wildly. 

She  made  a  few  steps  toward  the  door  as  if  to  fol- 
Jow  him,  and  then  the  hopelessness  of  doing  so  seemed) 
to  overcome  her,  and  with  a  low  moan  she  sank  to  the 
Boor. 

The  good  clergyman  could  only  reach  her  in  time  to 
save  her  from  injuring  herself  in  the  fall,  while  his 
sympathetic  wife  hastened  to  her  side  with  words  of 
pity  and  concern. 

"Oh,  how  cruel  and  wicked  he  is!"  she  murmured. 
"My  dear  lady,  dcfnot  despair,  he  cannot  mean  what! 
he  says." 

"He  does,  he  does !"  wailed  Mildred.  "I  shall  nevef 
see  him  again." 

"He  must  be  out  of  his  mind  to  desert  so  beautiful 
a  bride  as  you !"  the  girl  cried,  as  she  bent  over  Mildred 
to  render  her  the  assistance  of  her  hand  in  arising. 

"I  never  knew  so  strange  a  happening,"  the  old 
lady  said;  "this  is  indeed  a  wild  romance." 

"Tell  us  what  is  wrong,  madam,"  the  clergyman 


2o8   ."I  Know  How  to  Avenge  Myself!" 

said.  "It  may  be  that  we  can  give  you  helpful  ad- 
yice." 

But  Mildred's  weakness  was  past,  though  her  an- 
guish was  no  less  poignant  for  that.  She  pushed  them 
aside  haughtily  and  ungraciously  as  her  nature  moved 
her  to  do,  and  a  fierce,  vindictive  expression  distorted 
her  beautiful  face. 

"Advice !  I  need  no  advice.  I  know  how  to  avenge 
myself/' 

"Do  not  speak  of  revenge/1  murmured  the  clergy- 
man solemnly.  "It  will  recoil  on  yourself.  It  is  ever 
so." 

Mildred  laughed  wildly  and  scQrnfully.  Her  brain 
was  already  reveling  in  the  thought  of  how  she  would 
yisit  on  the  unsuspecting  and  defenseless  head  of 
Goldie  all  the  venom  she  had  been  storing  up  through 
the  days  and  hours  of  jealousy  and  hate! 

"Not  speak  of  revenge!"  she  sneered.  "But  it  is 
your  profession  to  speak  so.  What  would  you  say 
if  your  daughter  had  been  so  treated?  But,  pshaw  I 
why  do  I  tell  you  these  things  ?  There  are  other  ears 
tingling  to  hear  what  I  have  to  tell." 

She  threw  on  her  bonnet  and  cloak  with  slight  re- 
gard to  how  they  might  sit  on  her  now,  and  swept 
fiercely  toward  the  door. 

The  girl  shrank  back  at  the  sight  of  her  dark,  venge- 


"I  Know  How  to  Avenge  Myself  I"     209 

'ful  face;  but  the  clergyman  laid  his  hand  restrainingly 
and  rebukingly  on  her  arm. 

"One  moment  !    I  cannot  let  you  go  without  a  word 


Mildred  turned  savagely  on  him  and  threw  his  hand 
off.  Then  she  broke  into  a  wild,  sneering  laugh,  and 
cried  out: 

"Ah,  yes!  I  understand  why  you  detain  me.  My 
loving  husband,  in  leaving,  forgot  to  pay  you  for 
your  good  offices*  He  left  it  for  me  to  do  that.  There  ! 
you  shall  not  say  that  I  did  not  pay  well  for  my  happi- 
ness !" 

She  threw  him  a  roll  of  bills,  the  value  of  which  she 
neither  knew  nor  cared  to  know;  and  then,  with  an- 
other burst  of  fierce  laughter,  swept  from  the  room. 

And  the  street  door  slammed  after  her  as  it  had 
slammed  after  her  husband,  ere  they  could  .  collect 
themselves. 

"That  is  an  ill-omened  marriage,"  whispered  the 
wife. 

"I  will  not  take  the  money/'  the  clergyman  said  in 
a  low  tone. 

He  stooped  hurriedly  and  picked  up  the  roll,  dis- 
covering as  he  did  so  that  it  was  made  up  of  five  and 
ten-dollar  bills. 
;      He  ran  to  the  door  and  threw  it  open,  determined 


aio     "I  Know  How  to  Avenge  Myself!" 

to  run  after  Mildred  and  force  her  to  take  back  the 
money,  sorely  as  he  needed  it  himself. 

But  Mildred  had  leaped  into  her  carriage  and  had 
given  so  fierce  an  order  to  the  footman  to  close  the 
door  and  drive  home  that  already  she  was  flying  down 
the  street. 

The  good  man  stared  after  her,  realizing  that  he 
would  be  unable  to  make  her  hear,  should  he  call,  and! 
that  it  would  be  the  height  of  folly  for  him  to  attempt 
to  follow  her. 

He  returned  to  the  house  and  placed  the  money  on 
the  table,  murmuring,  as  he  sunk  into  a  chair: 

"I  was  too  late,  mother.  What  shall  we  do  with  the 
money?" 

His  good  wife  thought  of  their  many  needs,  re- 
flected that  the  money  was  at  least  honestly  come  by, 
though  so  much  in  excess  of  the  ordinary  fee. 

"Father,"  she  said,  timidly,  "I  am  sure  no  harm  can 
come  of  our  acceptance  of  the  money.  She  gave  it 
freely,  and  knowing  what  she  gave.  If  the  wedding 
be  not  a  happy  one,  it  is  not  your  fault.  You  are 
innocent,  and  the  money  is  ours  fairly." 

He  looked  up  and  his  eyes  rested  on  the  tempting 
roll  of  money.  There  were  so  many  good  uses  it 
could  be  put  to. 

"Keep  it.  then,  mother,  and  do  with  it  what  you 
will  The  r  es,  you  know,  are  yours." 


(HUV    ->'- 
"I  Know  How  to  Avenge  Myself !"     211 

"Then  I  shall  have  a  new  dress,"  cried  the  girl,  joy- 
'  ously. 

!  "And  your  father  shall  have  a  new  coat,"'  said  the 
good  woman. 

"And  you  shall  have  the  warm  coat  you  have  been 
needing  all  winter,  mother  dear/'  the  girl  cried  eagerly. 

"I  am  afraid  there  is  not  enough  for  all  that/'  said 
the  old  man,  shaking  his  head  gravely. 

The  girl  was  eagerly  and  breathlessly  counting  the 
bills  as  he  spoke,  and  her  eyes  grew  big  with  wonder 
as  she  proceeded. 

I  "Not  enough!"  she  cried  at  last.  "Why,  there  is 
enough  to  buy  all  those  things  and  to  send  old  Mrs. 
Perkins  her  winter's  coal,  to  say  nothing  of  paying 
rent  for  half  a  dozen  we  know  of.  There  are  two 
hundred  and  thirty  dollars  here!" 

And  so  out  of  the  misery  and  savage  pain  of  the 
deserted  bride  came  so  much  good,  while  her  agony 
in  that  little  room  became  to  those  three  but  a  matter 
of  wonder. 

She,  meanwhile,  forgetting  them,  and  thinking  of 
nothing  but  the  scorn  of  Donald  and  her  own  hatred 
of  innocent  Goldie,  was  hastening  home,  urging  her- 
self on  to  the  execution  of  those  terrible  plots  which 
were  already  matured  in  her  brain. 

She  was  filled  with  a  sense  of  shame  and  bitter 
anger,  but  she  forced  herself  to  dwell  calmly  on  the 


212     "I  Know  How  to  Avenge  Myself!" 

fact  that  there  must  be  some  sort  of  explanation  to 
Goldie  and  others  as  would  save  her  from  open  ridicule 
and  disgrace. 

So  she  lay  back  amid  the  luxurious  cushions  of  the 
carriage,  and  with  grinding  teeth  and  knitted  brows 
thought  it  all  over. 

She  no  longer  deluded  herself  with  the  vain  hope 
that  some  day  she  would  win  Donald  back  to  her,  and 
it  seemed  to  her  that  what  had  once  been  love  in  her 
heart  was  now  turning  to  hate. 

Yes,  she  could  hate  Donald  now,  and  it  gave  am 
added  zest  to  her  hideous  scheme  of  vengeance  that ! 
she  knew  how  he  would  suffer  when  he  knew  how  his ; 
love  had  writhed  in  deepest  anguish. 

"We  will  delay  our  departure  for  the  country  no) 
longer/'  she  muttered.  "Everything  is  ripe  for  the 
plot  to  work,  and  the  sooner  her  misery  begins,  the 
sooner  will  this  bitter  sting  in  my  heart  become  al- 
layed." 

She  did  not  doubt  that  the  men  on  the  box  were 
quietly  laughing  at  her,  with  a  shrewd  guess  at  the 
truth,  or  a  part  of  it  But  neither  they  nor  anyone 
else  could  arrive  at  the  whole  truth,  and  she  tod  an 
ingenious  lie  prepared  to  deceive  everybody. 

She  could  not  tell  what  Donald  would  do,  but  she 
did  not  doubt  that  he  would  hasten  away  from  the 


"I  Know  How  to  Avenge  Myself  I"      213 

\  City  to  immure  himself,  perhaps,  in  his  own  distant 
(  and  lonely  home  in  the  South. 

He  would  not  be  there  to  deny  her  story,  nor  did 

i    she  believe  he  would  do  so  were  he  to  remain  near. 

"But  he  will  not  stay  here  now/'  she  said  to  her- 

\   self.     "He  will  return  at  once  to  Forestmere,  there  to 

await  my  death.     Ah!"  and  she  laughed  with  Satanic 

!    fury,  "it  will  be  neither  my  death  nor  hers  that  will 

come  to  put  an  end  to  his  longing.     It  will  be  a  worse 

tale  than  that." 

[      It  would  have  seemed  impossible  for  one  bearing 
'  such  a  weight  of  fury  and  pain  to  put  on  an  appear- 
ance  of  smiling  happiness,  but  Mildred  did  it  as  the 
(  carriage  stopped  at  the  door  of  her  house. 
I      She  stepped  out  when  the  footman  opened  the  door, 
and  with  a  graciousness  as  unusual  as  it  was  unex- 
pected she  said  to  him : 

"Mr.  Irwin  was  called  suddenly  away,  and  will  not 
join  me  until  I  am  in  the  country;  but  that  is  no  rea- 
son why  you  and  the  other  servants  should  not  make 
merry  in  honor  of  our  wedding.  I  will  send  you  down 
a  sum  of  money  with  which  you  all  must  try  to  pur- 
chase something  with  which  to  remember  this  happy 
day.", 
,  "Thank  you,  miss — Mrs.  Irwin,  I  mean." 

"It  has  a  strange  sound  at  first,  has  it  not?"  she 
laughed  with  unwonted  familiarity. 


214     "I  Know  How  to  Avenge  Myself  1" 

She  ran  up  the  steps,  and  was  admitted  into  the 
house  ere  the  footman  found  tongue  to  murmur  to 
the  driver : 

"She  sang  a  different  tune  when  she  came  flying 
out  of  the  parsonage  and  ordered  us  to  drive  home. 
And  Mr.  Irwin  did  not  look  so  blessed  happy  when  he 
flew  down  the  street  alone." 

"Maybe  it's  the  new  style,"  laughed  the  footman. 

"New  or  old,"  rejoined  the  footman,  "it's  all  the 
same  to  me  if  she  sends  down  enough  boodle  to  the 
kitchen." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  DESERTED  BRIDE. 
I 

Mildred  went  at  once  to  her  room,  where  she  gailjq 
told  her  maid  the  same  story  that  had  done  service 
with  the  footman.  It  was  the  story  which  the  serv- 
ants were  to  know,  and  which  she  had  no  doubt  would 
lie  known  among  all  her  friends  ere  noon  of  the  next 
day;  for  she  was  not  a  stranger  to  the  fact  that  it  is 
through  the  kitchen  that  most  news  is  carried  to  the 
boudoirs  of  wealth. 

She  bore  herself  in  the  sight  of  the  wondering  maid 
with  an  appearance  of  happiness  that  deceived  even 
that  astute  creature.  And  when  she  had  been  aided 
to  change  her  gown  for  one  more  suitable  for  the 
house,  she  gave  the  maid  a  sum  of  money,  with  in- 
structions to  divide  it  equitably  among  the  servants. 

Then  she  dismissed  her  and  locked  herself  into  her 
room  that  she  might  for  a  moment  relax,  and  give  way; 
to  the  bitterness  of  her  humiliation  and  anger. 

For  she  knew  that  Goldie  would  be  waiting  to  know 
that  the  marriage,  which  was  the  knell  of  her  dearest 
hopes,  had  been  performed. 

And  it  was  so.  She  who  had  been  a  bride  and  a 
widow  within  so  brief  a  space  was  waiting  in  her  rootn 


216       The  Story  of  the  Deserted  Bride. 

with  anguished  heart,  but  dry  eyes,  for  the  return  oil 
the  wedded  pair. 

Mildred  had  suffered  much  in  the  heart-struggle  that 
had  been  going  on  during  the  hours  past;  but  the 
very  fury  and  anger  and  hate  in  which  she  had  in- 
dulged had  taken  from  her  pain  the  pang  that  had  been 
irf  poor  Goldie's. 

Goldie's  suffering  was  less  vehement;  but  it  was 
deeper  as  it  was  purer  and  more  resigned,  for  she  had 
at  least  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  she  had  done 
her  full  duty  as  she  saw  it. 

She  no  longer  had  any  hope  but  in  Heaven,  and  if 
it  had  been  right  she  would  gladly  have  parted  the 
thread  of  her  life  in  order  that  she  might  no  longer? 
be  connected  with  a  world  which  could  hold  only  sor- 
row and  woe  for  her. 

It  was  terrible  pain  to  remain  there  in  her  room 
waiting  while  the  man  she  loved  with  a  passionate 
adoration  was  being  wedded  to  another. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  it  would  have  been  easier  to 
bear  if  she  could  have  known  that  Mildred  was  more 
worthy,  and  that  Donald's  life  was  to  be  the  happien 
for  the  terrible  sacrifice  that  was  being  made.  Buti 
to  know  that  he  was  suffering  no  less  than  herself, 
was  in  itself  an  agony  not  to  be  computed. 

She  was  giving  him  tip  for  the  happiness  and  good 
of  no  one ;  but,  as  her  heart  distinctly  told  her,  for  the  , 


The  Story  of  the  Deserted  Bride. 

misery  and  woe  of  all  concerned.  For  she  knew  that 
Mildred  could  not  possibly  be  happy  with  one  who  gave 
her  his  hand  while  his  heart  was  unalterably  another's. 

"Ah,  Heaven!"  she  moaned  again  and  again  as  she 
buried  her  face  in  the  silken  folds  of  the  cushion  of 
the  divan,  "why  must  it  be  so?  Donald  and  I  could 
have  been  so  happy  together.  Ah!  at  least  take  this 
wretched  soul  out  of  this  life  of  misery." 

At  first  she  had  been  able  to  weep;  but  it  seemed 
siow  that  the  tears  would  not  come  and  relieve  her  sur- 
charged heart  of  "its  weight  of  woe. 

So  she  waited,  pacing  the  floor,  gazing  out  of  the 
window  with  unseeing  eyes  at  the  people  who  passed,  ! 
or  lying  with  convulsed  bosom  on  the  divan,  whose  ' 
rest  she  gladly  would  have  made  eternal. 

Then  she  saw  the  carriage  drive  up  and  saw  Mildred) 
dismount  alone,  but  with  a  gayety  that  sent  a  new! 
pang  to  the  tender  heart. 

If  Mildred  were  happy,  Donald  must  be  kind.  A  cryj 
of  misery  broke  from  her  lips.  Not  that  she  would 
have  wished  it  otherwise,  but  that  it  meant  so  much. 

Then  she  realized  hpw  she  had  betrayed  herself  to 
herself,  and  a  flush  of  shame  mounted  to  her  brow. 

"Oh,  miserable,  that  I  am!"  she  moaned;  "have  I 
secretly  cherished  the  hope  that  he  would  continue  to 
love  me  after  wedding  her?" 

Tbe  thought  that  such  a  thing  might  really  be  so, 


L 


2i8       The  Story  of  the  Deserted  Bride. 

added  to  her  misery,  and  she  sunk  into  a  chair  to 
await  a  visit  from  Mildred,  a  prey  to  remorse  and 
humiliation. 

She  never  doubted  that  Mildred  would  come  to  tell 
her  about  the  wedding ;  for  she  knew  in  her  secret 
heart  that  her  enemy  reveled  in  her  pain  and  misery. 

She  understood  this  instinctively,  though  without 
'for  a  moment  suspecting  the  hidden  depths  of  wicked- 
ness and  fury  that  animated  the  fierce  nature  of  the 
girl,  who  had  once  accused  her  of  murder. 

There  are  natures  so  pure  and  innocent  as  to  feel 
without  being  conscious  of  evil  in  others.  Such  a 
nature  was  that  of  the  beautiful  girl  who  had  been 
so  suddenly  snatched  from  the  loom  to  be  placed  in  a 
palace. 

There  came  a  knock  at  her  door,  which  she  recog- 
nized. It  was  Mildred,  come  no  doubt  to  triumph  over 
her. 

She  collected  herself  as  she  bade  her  enter,  deter- 
mined to  bear  herself  so  that  the  other  should  have 
no  just  cause  to  reproach  her. 

Mildred  entered,  fully  aware,  despite  any  disguise 
Goldie  might  assume,  how  the  latter  was  suffering, 
and  with  a  mind  made  up  to  torture  her  ere  she  re- 
vealed the  truth,  which  would  give  her  any  cause  for 
rejoicing. 

For  Mildred  would  not,  or  could  not,  understand 


The  Story  of  the  Deserted  Bride.       219 

the  nobler  nature  of  the  girl  she  had  striven  so  hard 
to  injure,  and  whom  she  hated  with  so  deadly  a  force. 

"Congratulate  me,  dear  Goldie!"  she  cried  gayly, 
"Give  Mrs.  Donald  Irwin  your  warmest  wishes  for 
happiness."  • 

Goldie  swallowed  the  misery  that  leaped  for  ex- 
pression to  her  lips. 

"I  do  congratulate  you,  Mildred,  and  I  wish  you 
every  happiness. " 

Mildred's  eyes  flamed  with  joy  as  she  watched  the 
beautiful  face  and  read  the  agony  that  lay  beneath 
the  mask. 

"Thank  you,  dear/'  she  murmured.  "I  know  that 
it  is  hard  for  you  to  utter  such  words,  and  I  hope 
you  will  find  the  strength  to  forgive  my  selfish  joy; 
but  as  Donald  himself  said  to  me  as  we  stood  together 
when  the  blessed  words  were  uttered  that  made  lu 
one,,  the  human  heart  is  elastic  and  will  soon  recover." 

"I  hope  his  words  are  the  very  truth,  Mildred," 
murmured  Goldie  in  a  low  tone. 

"I^am  sure  they  are.  He  felt  after  the  ceremony 
was  over  that  it  would  be  so  in  his  case.  He  had 
confessed  to  me  his  love  for  you,  but  when  he  turned 
to  press  a  loving  kiss  on  my  lips  when  I  was  his  wife, 
he  murmured  in  my  ear :  'It  may  take  me  a  little 
while  fo  forget  her  in  your  love,  dear;  but  from  what 
I  feel  now,  I  know  the  time  is  not  far  off.' ' 


220       The  Story  of  the  Deserted  Bride, 

"That  is  as  it  should  be,"  Goldie  murmured,  unable 
to  realize  what  a  hideous  falsehood  the  other  was  tell- 
ing. "I  hope  in  my  innermost  heart  that  he  will  learn 
to  love  you  as  a  man  should  love  his  wife/' 

Her  humble  acceptance  of  her  fate  made  Mildred 
long  to  take  her  by  the  milk-white  throat  and  choke 
back  the  sweet  words  she  spoke. 

"I  am  so  very  happy  in  spite  of  everything/'  she 
said,  quelling  her  fury  by  a  supreme  effort. 

"In  spite  of  what,  Mildred?"  Goldie  asked  sweetly. 

"Did  you  not  know  that  Donald  had  not  returned 

f 

with  me?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  I  saw  you  alight  from  the  carriage  without 
him." 

"And  did  you  not  wonder  at  that?" 

"I  wondered,  but  I  saw  you  happy,  and  I  dismissed 
the  thought  from  my  mind." 

"Dismissed  what  thought?"  demanded  Mildred  with 
a  laugh,  which  she  intended  to  be  merry,  but  which  in 
If  act  rang  with  the  ^fierceness  that  was  in  her  heart. 
"Did  you  think  that  he  had  deserted  me  at  the  moment 
of  making  me  his  bride?" 

Goldie  flashed  a  wondering  look  into  the  flaming- 
eyes,  and  for  a  moment  the  hope  she  could  not  kill 
rose  in  her  breast  and  betrayed  itself  in  her  violet 
orbs. 


The  Story  of  the  Deserted  Bride. 

/       ; 

"I — I  did  not  harbor  such  a  thought,"  she  whis- 
pered. 

"But  you  do  now,"  came  furiously  from  the  red 
lips  of  the  other,  and  if  hate  could  kill,  Goldie  wouldl 
have  died  under  the  envenomed  glance  of  her  enemy. 

As  it  was  she  started  back  with  a  terror  that  was 
hardly  undefined.  It  seemed  as  if  she  had  been  given! 
a  sudden,  passing  glance  into  the  wild,  furious  soul 
of  Mildred. 

But  the  latter  saw  how  her  unguarded  expression 
had  startled  the  gentle  Goldie  and  was  quick  to  force 
a  laugh  and  to  say: 

'"What  an  absurd  idea  that  would  be!  And  yet  he 
has  deserted  me,  though  in  a  loving,  tender  way  that 
makes  me  love  him  the  more." 

"Deserted  you  ?"  queried  Goldie  in  a  low  tone. 

"That  is  hardly  the  word,"  Mildred  said  gayly,  as  if 
the  matter  were  but  a  trifling  one.  "After  we  were 
wedded,  he  took  me  in  his  arms  and  pressed  a  kiss 
upon  my  lips,  saying  in  his  noble,  tender  way:  'Mil- 
dred, I  have  wedded  you  according  to  my  promise, 
and  because  of  Goldie's  oath.  I  feel  that  in  a  short 
time  I  can  love  you  as  a  husband  should  love  his  wife. 
Until  that  time  I  ask  your  permission  to  return  to  my 
Southern  home  alone.' ' 

"And  you  answered  him?"  Goldie  gasped. 

"I  bade  him  go,    I  told  him  that  I  would  prefer  that 


222       The  Story  of  the  Deserted  Bride. 

it  should  be  so.  I  was  so  sure  from  his  tender  caress 
that  already  he  was  learning  to  love  me  as  he  had  done^ 
at  first. 

"He  kissed  me  again  at  that,  and  said  he  would  go 
to  Forestmere  and  put  it  in  order  for  his  bride,  prom- 
ising me  that  I  would  feel  no  less  happy  when  at  last 
I  dwelt  in  his  ancestral  home  than  if  I  went  there 
with  him  at  once.  So  you  see,  dear  Goldie,  I  am  to 
wait  until  he  either  comes  or  sends  for  me,  and  for 
the  present  I  am  as  much  a  widow  as  you." 

Goldie  raised  her  great  eyes  to  heaven  and  her  lips 
moved  as  if  asking  for  the  necessary  strength  to  bear 
her  burden  of  woe. 

Mildred  watched  her  with  compressed  lips  and  glit- 
tering eyes;  but  when  the  other  looked  at  her  again, 
there  was  a  smile  on  the  red  lips,  and  the  gleaming1 
eyes  were  veiled  by  the  long  lashes. 

"Could  you  be  ready  to  leave  to-night  for  my 
country  home?"  she  asked  Goldie. 

"As  well  to-night  as  any  time,"  Goldie  responded. 
"I  believe  there  is  nothing  more  for  me  to  do  here." 

"To-night,  then!"  said  Mildred,  going  to  the  door. 
"And  to-morrow  you  will  awake  amid  new  scenes." 

She  closed  the  door,  and  the  expression  that  leaped 
into  her  dark  face  would  have  frightened  Goldie,  had 
she  seen  it,  as  much  as  the  muttered  words  had  she 
heard  them. 


The  Story  of  the  Deserted  Bride.       223 

"Yes,  you  will  awake  amid  new  scenes,  and  to  the 
beginning  of  dishonor,  disgrace  and  a  lost  beauty.  Ah ! 
to  see  you  stand  before  Donald  Irwin,  my  husband, 
that  he  may  look  on  your  hideous  face,  and  feel  that  ifi 
is  but  the  mirror  of  a  soul  equally  marred." 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 
\ 

A    FIENDISH    PLOTTER. 

Red  Oak  in  summer,  when  the  sun  shone  brightly, 
and  the  trees  were  covered  with  green  and  filled  with 
twittering  birds,  was  a  charming  place.  But  in  the 
dead  of  winter,  when  the  trees  were  bare,  and  the 
wind  soughed  through  the  limbs,  it  was  bleak  and  for- 
bidding. 

There  are  country  places,  charming  alike  winter  and 
summer,  but  Red  Oak  was  not  one  of  these;  and 
Goldie  shuddered  when  she  looked  up  at  the  dull, 
gray-stone  mansion. 

And  she  could  not  tell  why  her  heart  sunk  as  she 
entered  the  dark  doorway,  or  why  it  so  jarred  on  her 
troubled  heart  to  hear  Mildred  bid  her  enter  her  home. 

"This  comes  to  me  from  my  mother/'  Mildred 
laughed;  "which  is  why  it  was  not  given  to  you,  I 
suppose/' 

Goldie  looked  up  into  the  dark  eyes  and  said  sadly: 

i 

"I  do  not  wish  the  house  in  the  city  which  was  given, 
me  by  your  father.    Take  it,  Mildred ;  I  shall  be  glad 
to  give  it  to  you.     Ah,  if  I  could  only  take  this  load 
off  my  unhappy  .heart  as  easily1/' 
i      Mildred's  eyes  flashed  fiercely. 


A  Fiendish  Plotter.  225 

"Are  you  so  very  unhappy,  then,  Goldie?" 

Goldie  smiled   sadly. 

"How  could  it  be  otherwise,  Mildred?  I  do  not 
envy  you  your  happiness,  but  I  know  that  my  life  is 
ruined.  But  let  us  not  refer  to  this  again.  I  shall 
not  long  weary  you  with  my  dejected  face,  for  I  have 
formed  a  plan  which  I  shall  soon  put  in  execution." 
.  "Remove  your  things,  dear,"  said  Mildred,  eyeing 
her  keenly.  "What  is  your  plan?" 

"I  shall  leave  this  country.  After  a  short  time  here, 
I  shall  return  to  the  city,  and  endeavor  to  find  distrac- 
tion in  travel.  At  least  I  may  find  opportunities  to  do 
good  with  the  money  that  has  been  given  me." 

Mildred  laughed  bitterly  when  she  was  alone  in  her 
own  apartments. 

"Does  she  think  I  do  not  see  through  that  ruse? 
She  hopes  to  meet  Donald  in  her  travels.  Aye,  and  she 
would  meet  him,  for  the  moment  he  knew  she  was 
away  from  me,  he  would  find  the  means  of  meeting 
her.  No,  no!  you  shall  not  meet  him  thus,  Goldie." 

She  was  sedulously  kind  to  her  unsuspecting  guest 
during  the  remainder  of  the  evening,  and  did  all  she 
could  to  make  her  forget  the  evil  impression  she  had 
formed  on  arriving  at  Red  Oak. 

But  she  offered  no  objection  when  Goldie,  early  in 
the  evening,  suggested  Aat  she  would  like  to  retire  for 
the  night. 


226  A  Fiendish  Plotter. 

Indeed,  she  declared  she  was  very  tired  and  sleepy, 
herself,  and  rose  at  once  to  accompany  Goldie  to  her 
apartments. 

Goldie  had  already  been  to  them,  and  had  been 
depressed  by  their  great  size  and  gloom,  but  <*}- 
though  they  were  in  a  lonely  part  of  the  mansion,  she 
was  not  troubled  by  any  fears. 

"I  have  given  you  these  rooms,"  Mildred  said,  "be- 
cause they  are  by  themselves  and  will  permit  you  to 
feel  more  secluded  than  if  you  were  nearer  to  me." 

Goldie's  maid  had  feared  that  she  would  be  called 
on  to  remain  with  her  mistress,  and  was  relieved  when 
told  that  she  was  to  sleep  in  the  same  part  of  the  house 
with  the  other  servants. 

"I'm  glad  of  that,"  she  muttered  in  a  low  tone. 

"What  did  you  say?"  demanded  Goldie  kindly. 

The  girl  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said  frankly : 

"I  said  I  was  glad  not  to  have  to  sleep  in  this  part 
of  the  house,  Mrs.  Selden.  I  did  not  mean  to  trouble 
you  about  it,  but  indeed,  I  can't  bear  to  come  here, 
even  now  when  the  evening  is  only  just  falling;  for  the 
story  is  that  this  part  of  the  house  is  haunted." 

Goldie  paled  at  the  words,  but  made  a  gesture  of 
impatience. 

"Haunted!  that  is  childish  talk,  Rose.  There  are 
no  such  things  as  ghosts,  and  no  sensible  person  be- 
lieves in  them." 


A  Fiendish  Plotter.  227 

"It's  all  right  if  you  don't,"  Rose  replied,  shaking 
her  head  doubtfully;  "I  only  know  that  I  would  die 
of  fright  at  the  very  thought  of  sleeping  in  that  room." 

Goldie  had  dismissed  the  girl  at  that  moment,  and 
had  endeavored  to  dismiss  the  subject,  too,  from  her 
thoughts,  but  although  she  did  not  fear  such  shadowy 
things  as  ghosts,  she  could  not  banish  a  vague  uneasi- 
ness from  her  mind. 

It  came  to  her  with  redoubled  force  and  pertinacity 
when  Mildred  accompanied  her  to  her  apartments. 

"It  is  very  lonely  here,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone. 
"How  should  I  communicate  with  you  if  there  was 
need?" 

A  strange  smile  flitted  over  Mildred's  face  as  she 
replied : 

"The  only  way  is  by  the  hall  through  which  we 
have  just  come.  Are  you  feeling  at  all  ill  that  you 
ask  the  question?" 

"Not  at  all." 

She  was  tempted  to  speak  of  the  story  Rose  had  told 
her,  but  shame  kept  her  silent,  and  she  let  Mildred  go 
from  the  room  with  a  false  smile  and  word  of  farewell 
on  her  lips. 

Rose  timorously  performed  for  Goldie  such  service 
as  was  necessary,  and  showed  herself  so  anxious  to 
get  away,  that  Goldie  could  not  forbear  saying,  re- 
proachfully : 


228  A  Fiendish  Plotter. 

"If  there  really  be  danger  hrre,  Rose,  do  you  care 
so  little  for  me  that  you- can  hardly  wait  to  leave  me 
alone  to  it?" 

"Oh!"  cried  Rose,  with  a  shudder  and  a  glance 
around  her,  "I  do  not  wish  to  leave  you;  but  I  am 
afraid.  It  is  the  truth.  I  am  afraid!  Hark!  what 
was  that  noise?" 

She  caught  Goldie  by  her  wrist  and  stared  about  her 
with  a  terror  that  was  not  feigned, -and  which,  in  spite 
of  her  resolution,  affected  her  mistress. 

"It — it  was  nothing,"  Goldie  said  faintly.  "Do  not 
be  foolish,  Rose.  How  is  it  possible  that  any  harm 
can  come  from  such  a  source  as  you  suppose?  I  am 
sure  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  ghost." 

"Please,  please  do  not  speak  the  word!"  gasped 
Rose.  "And,  oh,  when  I  leave  you,  won't  you  hold 
the  light  at  the  door  until  I  am  out  of  the  corridor?" 

Goldie  put  a  severe  restraint  on  herself  and  let 
Rose  hasten  her  preparations  for  the  night  without 
giving  way  to  her  own  undefined  terrors. 

And  when  Rose  was  ready  to  go  Goldie  did  not  seek 
to  detain  her  by  a  word,  but  held  the  light  at  the 
door  until  she  was  out  of  the  corridor. 

Then,  however,  as  she  closed  and  bolted  the  door, 
her  own  nervousness  took  possession  of  her,  and  she 
burst  into  tears  and  sobbed  until  relief  came. 

"What  is  it  that  troubles  me?"  she  murmured  to  her* 


A  Fiendish  Plotter*  229 

self  at  last.  "I  do  not  fear  such  things  as  ghosts, 
which  I  know  are  only  creatures  of  the  imagination, 
Then  why  do  I  permit  my  feelings  to  overcome  me  in 
this  way?" 

She  drew  her  wrapper  about  her  more  closely  and 
paced  the  floor,  while  she  tried  to  account  to  herself 
for  the  uneasiness  which  had  so  wrought  upon  her 
as  to  cause  her  to  break  down.* 

It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  the  fit  of  depression  had 
begun  from  the  moment  when  the  great  gray  pile  had 
come  into  sight  from  the  carriage  windows,  though  she 
recalled  how  she  had  shuddered  from  some  unknown, 
inexplicable  cause  when  she  had  entered  the  doorway 
of  the  house. 

"I  wonder,"  she  murmured,  "why  it  is  that  I  feel 
so?  There  can  be  no  good  cause  for  it — none." 

She  sat  down  in  front  of  the  open  fire,  sleep  ban- 
ished from  her  eyelids  by  the  excitement  she  had 
passed  through. 

"Perhaps,"  she  thought,  "it  is  only  my  low  spirits, 
acted  on  by  the  terror  of  poor  Rose,  whose  supersti- 
tious •  fancies  have  unsettled  her  brain  for  the  while. 
I  will  lie  down  and  think  of  it  no  more." 

She  passed  into  her  bedroom,  which  she  instinctively 
studied  for  a  moment  by  the  light  of  the  lamp. 

"How  silent  and  gloomy!"  she  muttered.  "I  seem 
shut  off  from  all  the  world  in  here." 


230  A  Fiendish  Plotter. 

She  shuddered  as  she  spoke,  then  gathered  courage, 
turned  down  her  light,  and  crept  shivering  into  the  bed. 

All  the  household,  tired  without  doubt  with  the 
fatigues  of  the  day,  had  retired  early.  Even  Mildred 
had  dismissed  her  maid  after  being  early  disrobed 
for  slumber. 

But  while  the  others  retired  to  bed  to  sleep,  Mildred 
alone  only  locked  her  door  after  her  retiring  maid, 
and  then  began  with  swift,  eager  fingers  to  don  her 
clothes  again. 

She  laughed  fiercely  as  she  did  so,  and  her  lips  con- 
tinued to  mutter  evil  words  against  that  one  of  the 
guests  beneath  her  roof  who  was  least  deserving  of 
harm,  and  most  to  be  pitied  for  her  sorrows. 

"She  fears  something/'  she  said,  more  coherently, 
as  she  pinned  the  collar  at  her  throat,  and  threw  a 
shawl  over  her  shoulders  as  if  contemplating  a  jour- 
ney from  her  room.  "Ere  morning  dawns  she  will 
have  something  to  fear  in  grim  reality." 

She  glided  to  the  door  as  she  spoke  thus,  and  care- 
fully unlocking  it,  listened  with  it  open. 

There  was  no  sound  from  any  part  of  the  house, 
and  she  ventured  stealthily  forth,  closing  ai,d  locking 
the  door  after  her. 

"The  meddlesome  maid  may  return  for  something," 
she  muttered.  "Better  for  her  to  keep  her  room  and 
sleep  soundly  this  night." 


A  Fiendish  Plotter.  231 

She  crept  softly  along-  the  hall,  listening-  for  any 
sound  as  she  went,  and  her  steps  led  her  past  the  door 
of  Goldie's  apartments. 

No  fear  of  visionary  creatures  seemed  to  daunt  her 
fierce  spirit  as  she  threaded  the  gloomy  and  silent  cor- 
ridor, and  when  she  reached  the  door  of  the  apart- 
ments she  stooped  and  listened  at  the  keyhole. 

Groldie  slept  in  the  room  beyond,  and  her  light 
breathing  could  not  be  heard  from  where  Mildred 
stood/ 

"She  may  not  sleep  yet,"  she  murmured,  "but  it  mat- 
ters little  whether  she  does  or  not.  Your  doom  is 
sealed,  my  dainty  beauty.  Ah!  you  would  steal  my 
love  from  me,  and  turn  the  happiness  in  my  heart  to 

gall!"  % 

She  crept  stealthily  on,  but  at  a  sudden  thought 
turned  and  softly  tried  the  knob  of  the  door.  When 
she  discovered  that  it  was  locked  an  evil  smile  wreathed 
her  lips,  and  she  went  on  muttering : 

"I  hoped  it  would  be  so.  But  it  could  make  little 
difference.  I  wonder  what  it  was  that  troubled  her  so 
when  she  bade  me  good  night?" 

The  corridor  led  her  now  into  a  part  of  the  house 
that  had  lain  in  disuse  for  many  years,  and  was  seldom, 
if  ever,  trodden  by  any  of  the  servants,  who  were  all 
firm  believers  in  the  notion  that  it  was  haunted. 

The  passageway  took  a  sharp  turn  about  fifty  feet 


\  j2  A  Fiendish  Plotter. 

beyond  the  door  of  Goldie's  apartments,  ana  tnere 
ended  in  a  ladder  which  stood  up  and  projected  into  a 
trapdoor  in  the  ceiling. 

It  was  a  singular  place  for  the  fastidious  Mildred  to 
be  going  at  that  hour,  but  she  mounted  the  ladder 
with  an  assured  step,  and  was  presently  in  a  dark  loft. 

There  was  a  window  at  the  far  end,  and  to  it  she 
crept  with  cautious  foot  and  outstretched  hand,  so  that 
she  would  not  fall  or-  run  into  anything.  At  the  win- 
dow she  stopped  and  rested  for  a  moment,  her  face 
hard  and  cruel  as  it  showed  in  the  dim  light. 

"How  silent  it  is!"  she  murmured.  "Not  a  sound 
to  betray  the  presence  of  a  living  thing." 

She  bent  her  head  and  held  her  breath  while  she 
listened.  A  fierce  smile  of  triumph  distorted  her  face, 
and  with  a  firm  but  cautious  step  she  crept  along  the 
side  of  the  room,  her  hand  feeling  its  way  on  the  .wall. 

Presently  she  stopped  again,  and  began  to  f  eeJ  ovet 
the  wall,  as  if  in  search  of  something,  which  in  a 
moment  an  exclamation  of  pleasure  betrayed  the  dis- 
covery of. 

It  was  a  slight  lump  on  which  her  hand  rested,  and 
which  had  caused  the  cry  of  pleasure.  She  paused  a 
moment,  then  pressed  the  lump  with  all  her  force, 
while  she  stood  in  an  attitude  of  listening. 

.The  sound  of  a  faint  tinkle  fell  on  her  ^fers,  and  she 


A  Fiendish  Plotter.  233 

straightened  up  and  seemed  to  wait  for  some  result.    It 
came  suddenly. 

The  wall  opposite  to  where  she  stood  opened  as  if 
by  magic,  and  a  bright  light  streamed  forth  from  the 
opening. 

"You  are  there,  then?"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone. 

"Yes;  you  did  not  suppose  we  would  keep  you  wait- 
ing, did  you?"  was  the  query  in  a  hoarse  voice,  in  a 
tone  of  vulgar  familiarity.  "We  are  not  the  sort  to 
keep  beauty  waiting." 

Her  lip  curled,  but  her  face  showed  no  sign  of 
fear,  as  she  glided  across  the  loft,  and  passed  through! 
the  opening,  by  the  side  of  which  stood  a  heavily; 
built  ruffian  of  the  coarsest  type. 

The  opening,  or  door,  whichever  it  was,  closed  after 
her,  and  she,  without  waiting  to  exchange  any  more 
words  with  the  man,  glided  softly  across  the  room  and 
entered  one  which  opened  beyond. 

The  room  in  which  she  was  now  was  small,  but  well- 
lighted  and  comfortably  furnished,  and  on  the  table, 
which  stood  in  the  middle  of  it,  there  stood  a  bottle  of 
liquor  and  some  food. 

That  the  bottle  had  been  applied  to  more  than  once 
was  evident  by  the  soiled  glasses,  by  the  diminished 
contents,  and  by  the  flushed  face  of  a  man  who  sat  by 
the  side  of  the  table,  his  hand  on  a  tumbler  in  which 
there  still  remained  a  few  drops  of  liquor. 

ir 


334  A  Fiendish  Plotter. 

"Ah!"  he  said  familiarly,  and  without  more  than 
half  rising  from  his  seat  to  salute  her;  "so  the  ball 
is  opened,  eh  ?  And  does  the  dance  begin  at  once  ?" 

She  bit  her  lip  at  his  coarse,  familar  form  of  ad- 
dress, and  eyed  him  with  a  keen  glance  as  if  she 
would  see  how  much  under  the  influence  of  liquor  he 
was. 

He  was  quite  as  rascally  looking  as  his  companion 
who  had  admitted  her,  but  was  far  better  looking, 
and  much  better  clothed. 

There  was  something  in  his  manner  and  language, 
too,  that  betokened  that  he  might  at  one  time  have 
associated  with  gentlemen,  though  the  time  must  have 
been  almost  forgotten. 

His  eyes  dwelt  on  the  beautiful  creature  who  came 
into  his  presence  thus  unprotected,  and  there  was  every 
sign  of  admiration  in  his  gaze.  He  laughed  softly  at 
her  expression,  and  pushing  the  glass  from  him,  said 
carelessly : 

"Don't  be  alarmed,  Miss  Selden — Mrs.  Irwin,  I 
mean;  we  have  not  taken  too  much.  You  see,  we  can't 
do  much  without  a  few  drops  to  liven  us  up.  I  saw 
our  dainty  little  lady  arrive.  I  hope  she  sleeps  well." 

He  laughed  as  he  spoke,  and  would  have  poured 
himself  out  another  glass  of  liquor  if  Mildred  had 
not  snatched  the  bottle  away. 

"Not  now,  if  you  please,  sir.    When  you  hav£  done 


A  Fiendish  Plotter.  3  35 

the  work  for  which  you  have  engaged  yourself,  you 
may  drink  to  your  heart's  content." 

He  laughed  softly  as  he  pushed  his  glass  from  him, 
and  said  in  a  chuckling  tone : 

"You  are  a  plucky  sort.  Why,  you  don't  suppose 
you  could  keep  me  from  it  if  I  didn't  wish  to  let  you 
have  your  way,  do  you?" 

"You  will  do  as  I  wish,  or  do  nothing,"  she  retorted, 
with  a  rising  flush.  "I  am  no  weak  woman  to  be 
trifled  with." 

"Weak  woman  ?  No,  by  Heaven !  you  are  not  weak ; 
but  then  we  are  two  strong  men,  and  you  are  only  a 
woman,  after  all.  You  wouldn't  dare  to  make  a  fuss, 
no  matter  what  we  did.  But  don't  start  back  that 
way,  we  won't  do  any  more  than  we  agreed  to.  Only 
don't  play  the  tragedy  queen  with  us  at  this  stage  of 
the  game." 

She  flashed  a  look  at  the  other  wretch,  and  saw  that 
he  was  watching  them  with  a  coarse  grin  of  admiration 
for  his  comrade  on  his  face. 

She  realized  that  she  was  playing  with  fire  in  using 
such  tools  for  her  purpose,  and  with  an  effort  subdued 
her  anger. 

"I  don't  ask  anything  out  of  reason,"  she  said.  "If 
you  get  intoxicated,  you  can't  do  the  work  you  agreed 
to  do." 

"We  don't  propose  to  get  drunk,  Mrs.  Irwiri,"  the 


236  A  Fiendish  Plotter. 

fellow  said;  "but  I  suppose  what  annoys  you  most  is 
my  admiration  of  you.  Bless  you!  you  mustn't  mind 
that.  I  always  did  admire  female  beauty,  didn't  I, 
Jake?" 

"You  bet  you  did,  Harry,"  was  the  grinning  re- 
sponse. 

"Well,"  said  Mildred,  haughtily,  "you  need*  not 
waste  any  of  your  admiration  on  me.  It  would  be 
just  as  well  to  save  it  for  the  lady  who  is  to  have 
the  honor  of  having  a  claim  to  it." 

"All  right,"  laughed  the  fellow.  "I  admit  she  is 
beautiful  enough." 

"Are  the  letters  written?"  she  asked. 

*ii 

"At  your  service,  Mrs.  Irwin." 

As  she  spoke  he  drew  two  letters  from  his  pocket 
and  handed  them  to  her. 

She  took  them  and  looked  them  over  with  a  smile 
of  satisfaction. 

"They  look  good  enough  to  be  genuine,"  she  said  in 
a  complimentary  way. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  flatter  myself  I  know  how  to  do 
that  sort  of  thing;  in  fact,  you  know,  I  have  rather 
made  a  specialty  of  that  branch  of  my  business." 

"But  not  very  successfully,"  she  said  dryly. 

"Not  heretofore,"  he  replied  with  an  exaggerated 
bow ;  "but  I  hope  that  the  present  venture  will  prove 
more  remunerative.  Are  we  ready?" 

' 


A  Fiendish  Plotter.  237 

"I  do  not  believe  it  is  worth  while  to  wait  any; 
longer.  I  suppose  your  arrangements  have  been  prop- 
erly made?" 

"Yes;  I  have  a  carriage  and  a  pair  of  fleet  horses 
waiting  in  charge  of  a  trusty  comrade." 

"And  the  retreat?"  she  asked  with  a  vindictive  air. 

"That  is  ready,  too ;  and  unless  my  calculations  fail, 
our  little  bird  will  be  sheltered  there  before  morning 
dawns." 

"Let  us  go,  then,"  she  said. 

"Did  you  examine  her  door  as  you  came  by?"  he 
demanded,  his  eyes  lighting  up  under  the  excitement 
of  action. 

"Yes,  it  is  locked;  but  that  need  not  trouble  you." 

He  and  his  companion  laughed  hoarsely. 

"No,  I  guess  we  won't  let  that  trouble  us.  I  thrnW 
Jake  and  I  will  know  how  to  overcome  that  difficulty. 
Got  the  tools,  Jake?" 

"Right  you   are,   Harry." 

Mildred  put  up  her  hand  authoritatively. 

"You  will  have  no  need  of  your  implements,"  she 
said.  "Do  you  suppose  I  had  no  other  object  than 
to  isolate  her  when  I  put  htr  in  those  apartments  yon- 
der?" 

The  man  addressed  as  Harry  looked  inquiringly  at 
her. 

"I  wouldn't  like  to  swear  to  anything  about  you* 


238  A  Fiendish  Plotter. 

madam/'  he  said.  "All  I  know  is  that  you  are  cursed 
deep.  What  was  your  object  then?" 

"These  rooms  up  here  are  well  hidden,  are  they 
not?"  she  asked,  her  eyes  flaming  with  a  triumph  she 
felt  herself  about  to  achieve. 

"That  they  are.  I  could  be  comfortable  here  for  a 
month  if  need  were.  I  thought  the  first  time  I  came 
to  them  that  they  would  make  a  rare  hiding  place  if 
ever  I  got  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  law.  It  might 
happen,  you  know,"  he  added  with  a  short  laugh,  in 
which  his  companion  joined. 

"There  is  no  need  for  you  ever  to  get  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  law,"  she  said  sharply. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  made  no  response. 

"Come!"  she  said:  "I  am  going  to  take  you  to  her 
room  by  a  secret  passage,  which  was  used  by  my  an- 
cestors years  ago/ 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

MILDRED    UNMASKS. 

The  two  hired  ruffians,  for  they  were  nothing  else, 
fallowed  Mjldred  with  unconcealed  wonder  as  she 
led  them  to  the  corner  of  the  room,  and  by  the  pressure 
on  a  disguised  button,  revealed  a  small  entrance  to 
some  place  beyond. 

"It  looks/'  said  the  man  called  Harry,  "as  if  your 
ancestors  had  need  of  no  little  secrecy.  I  wonder  what 
line  of  business  they  were  in." 

"Silence!"  she  said  haughtily;  "such  comments  are 
unnecessary.  Follow  me !  this  will  lead  us  to  a  secret 
entrance  into  her  apartments." 

She  disappeared  through  the  opening  as  she  spoke, 
and  they  followed  her  as  closely  as  possible. 

They  found  themselves  on  a  narrow  staircase,  which 
ran  down  in  so  steep  a  descent  that  it  was  necessary  to 
exercise  no  little  caution  in  the  utter  darkness  in  order 
to  avoid  falling. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  it  led  them  to  the  floor  below 
•—the  same  that  poor  Goldie's  rooms  were  on. 

At  the  foot  of  the  staircase  a  narrow  hall  ran.  Mil- 
fdred  led  her  strange  companions  along  this  for  a  few 
paces,  and  then  stopped  and  fumbled  with  the  wall  un- 
til a  door  noiselessly  slid  aside. 


340  Mildred  Unmasks. 

They  did  not  doubt  that  this  led  them  into  Goldie's 
apartments,  and  so  the  words  of  their  conductress 
proved  to  them. 

"Remain  here/'  she  whispered.  "This  is  the  room 
next  the  hall.  I  shall  go  in  and  have  a  few  words  with 
her  before  you  need  come  in." 

"Don't  make  it  too  long,"  the  leader  whispered  with 
a  chuckle.  "I  am  eager  to  inform  my  beautiful  bride 
of  what  a  happy  fate  is  in  store  for  her."- 

"I  shall  not  be  very  long;  in  any  event  do  not  enter 
until  I  bid  you." 

She  glided  into  the  other  room,  closing  the  door 
after  her. 

The  leader  turned  to  his  companion  and  whispered : 

"That  girl  could  give  points  to  Satan  himself.  I 
wonder  what  mischief  she  has  in  her  brain  now?" 

"Didn't  she  tell  you  everything?"  Jake  asked  in  his 
gruff  voice. 

"I  don't  know  how  much  she  told  me.  All  I  know 
is  that  I  would  not  like  to  be  in  her  power  when  there 
was  the  look  in  her  black  eyes  that  was  in  them  just 
now.  Well,  I  don't  suppose  we  need  worry  about  what 
doesn't  concern  us." 

Mildred,  unconscious  of  the  words  uttered  when  she 
left  her  companions,  crept  softly  into  the  room  where 
Goldie  slept,  troubled  by  fitful  dreams. 

The  light  in  the  lamp  had  been  turned  low,  so  that 


Mildred  Unmasks.  241 

objects  could  be  dimly  discerned  in  the  room.  Mildred 
could  see  where  Goldie  lay  on  the^bed  at  the  other  side 
of  the  room. 

She  stole  over,  with  the  look  of  a  demon  glittering  ir^ 
her  coal-black  eyes,  and  bent  above  the  sleeping  girl. 

Her  heart  was  full  of  hate,  but,  as  she  looked,  sne 
admitted  that  never  in  her  life  had  she  gazed  upon 
such  a  picture  of  ravishing  beauty. 

One  little  hand  lay  under  the  round,  white  cheek,  on -\ 
which  the  long  lashes  lay  in  curved  lines;  the  other 
hand  was  thrown  up  over  the  curly  head,  and  betrayed  \ 
the  glowing  whiteness  of  the  rounded  arm. 

The  red  lips  were  parted  slightly,  and  the  softly  is-  j 
suing  breath  was  shown  rather  by  the  gently  heaving 
bosom,  which  rose  and  fell  under  the  covering  like  the 
sea  on  a  summer's  day. 

"Curse  her  fatal  beauty!"  came  hissingly  from  the 
lips  of  the  watcher.  "But  for  that  I  would  now  be  a 
happy  fiancee,  waiting  in  blissful  security  for  the 
•coming  of  my  wedding  day." 

She  drew  back  as  she  spoke,  and  one  hand  trem- 
blingly sought  a  fold  in  her  gown,  as  if  she  had  that 
there  which  would  avenge  her  on  the  innocent  sleeper. 
But,  with  a  violent  effort  at  self-command,  she  with- 
drew her  hand  and  bent  over  Goldie  again. 

"I  could  drop  that  on  those  perfect  lips  which 
would  prevent  their  ever  parting  in  words  again/'  she 


242  Mildred  Unmasks. 

muttered.  "Would  it  be  wiser  than  pursuing  my  pres- 
ent scheme?  It  would  be  surer  and  briefer;  but  it 
would  not  give  me  the  same  joy. 

"Now  I  shall But  I  will  awaken  her  and  let 

her  know  her  doom.  Ah !  she  will  stare  at  me  out  of 
those  violet  eyes  of  hers  in  an  awful  horror  of  doubt 
and  fear. 

"Let  her  stare !  Let  her  scream  and  beg  and  pray  J 
Nothing  will  avail  her  now.  There  is  not  a  servant 
in  the  house  would  come  to  her  aid  did  they  hear  her ; 
and  no  one  will  hear/' 

She  laid  her  hand  on  the  girl's  shoulder,  and  the 
frightened  sleeper  started  up  with  a  wild  cry  of  terror. 

Then  Mildred  drew  back  with  flaming  eyes  and  let 
Goldie  stare  at  her  in  the  horror  of  one  aroused  from 
a  nightmare. 

"Ah!  ah!"  gasped  poor  Goldie. 

"Well,  do  you  not  know  me?"  Mildred  demanded. 

"Mildred!" 

"Yes,  Mildred.  And  do  you  wonder  why  I  am 
here  at  this  hour  of  the  night,  disturbing  your 
slumbers?" 

"I — I  locked  the  door,"  stammered  Goldie,  half 
rising. 

Mildred  laughed  in  a  way  that  froze  the  frightened 
girl's  blood  in  her  veins.  She  deemed  she  had  to  do 
V?ith  one  rone  mad. 


Mildred  Unmasks.  243 

"Locks  and  bolts  are  nothing  to  me  here.  This  is  my 
r  house,  girl.  This  was  a  place  that  could  not  be  taken 
from  me  by  a  doting  old  man.  This  is  my  house,  and 
I  know  its  ways.  I  did  not  come  by  the  door." 

Her  hatred  of  the  beautiful  creature  trembling  be- 
fore her  was  such  that  it  made  her  incoherent.  But 
Goldie  gathered  enough  to  understand  that  there  was 
a  secret  entrance  to  her  room. 

"Why — why  did  you  come  here,  Mildred  ?"  she 
asked. 

"Why  did  I  come?  Ha!  ha!  ha!  I  came  because 
my  bitter,  undying  hate  made  me  wish  to  see  yoti 
alone,  where  no  one  could  come  to  interfere.  Do  you 
not  tremble  to  see  me  ?  Does  not  your  heart  throb  with 
a  fear  and  horror  too  awful  for  description?  Do 
you  not  quake  with  a  terror  which  your  worst  fears 
Cannot  define?  Answer  me!" 

Goldie  now  stared  at  her  unexpected  visitor  with  a 
new  alarm.  It  began  to  dawn  upon  her  that  Mildred 
was  not  mad,  but  animated  by  a  terrible  hatred.  It 
was  this  that  shone  in  her  baleful  eyes,  quivered  in  her 
hissing  voice,  and  showed  itself  in  the  meaning  of 
her  furious  words. 

"Mildred/'  she  cried,  "tell  me  what  you  mean!  Why 
have  you  come  here  at  this  hour  to  say  such  things  to 
me?  What  is  your  purpose?" 

Mildred  laughed  bitterly. 


244  Mildred  Unmasks. 

"Ah,  you  begin  to  understand  at  last.  It  comes  to 
you  that  I  have  beguiled  you  to  this  lonely  house, 
placed  you  in  these  distant  apartments  in  order  that  I 
might  at  last  visit  on  you  the  hate  and  fury  which 
have  gnawed  within  my  heart  since  the  first  day  I 
heard  your  cursed  name  mentioned." 

"Go  away!  Leave  me!"  Goldie  cried,  her  courage 
coming  to  her  as  she  realized  that  what  she  had  to 
deal  with  was  no  more  than  a  furious  woman.  "I  will 
not  listen  to  you." 

"But  you  shall  listen  to  me.  You  shall  hear  all  I 
have  to  say.  You  shall  learn  what  fate  I  have  doomed 
you  to  for  coming  between  me  and  Donald  Irwin,  my 
love  ere  ever  he  saw  you." 

"I  did  not  come  between  you.  That  is  a  false  accusa- 
tion. He  never  loved  you,  and  he  did  love  me  from  the 
first  moment  he  met  me,  just  as  I  loved  him.  Then  I 
gave  him  up  to  you  because  of  my  oath,  and  because 
I  would  not  have  him  do  a  dishonorable  thing  though 
my  life's  happiness  were  at  stake." 

"How  dare  you  say  these  things  to  me?"  screamed 
the  furious  girl.  "But  I  will  silence  your  tongue  with 

terror.     Do  you  think  I  do  not  know  that  you  have 

i 
hoped  that  something  would  happen  to  bring  you  and 

him  together?" 

"It  is  false.  I  hoped  for  no  such  thing.  Nor  can 
you  frighten  me  with  your  threats.  I  am  glad  that  at 


Mildred  Unmasks.  245 

last  I  have  found  you  out.  Now  I  will  leave  your  roof 
forever/' 

"Yes,  you  shall  leave  it;  but  how?  It  shall  not  be 
to  go  forth  the  rich  and  fascinating  widow  to  whom 
the  world  will  bow  in  homage  and  adoration ;  but  as  a 
creature  so  vile  and  hideous  that  the  world  will  turn 
from  you  in  disgust/' 

"I  begin  to  think  that  my  first  fear  was  correct,  and 
that  you  are  in  truth  demented/'  said  Goldie  coldly. 

"Demented!  No,  I  am  not  demented,  though  it 
may  well  be  th^t  I  am  beside  myself  with  just  wrath. 
I  am  not  insane,  but  it  will  be  lucky  for  you  if  you 
can  escape  your  torments  by  a  madness  which  will 
kill  memory  and  all  consciousness." 

Goldie  attempted  to  rise  from  her  bed;  but  as  she 
did  so  Mildred  thrust  her  back  with  a  jesture  of  fury. 

"You  shall  not  rise  until  I  am  through  with  you, 
you  base-born  factory  girl !" 

Goldie  saw  that  she  could  gain  nothing  in  a  struggle 
with  her  visitor;  though  the  probabilities  were  that 
she  was  the  stronger  of  the  two. 

"Say  then  what  you  will,"  she  cried,  scornfully; 
"but  do  not  hope  to  frighten  me  with  foul  or  venomous 
words." 

Mildred  laughed  shrilly. 

"So  ypu  are  not  to  be  frightened?  Is  it  so?  Listen 
then,  and  if  I  do  not  see  that  round  cheek  blanch  with 


246  Mildred  Unmasks. 

a  terror  that  will  send  the  throbbing  blood  all  to  your 
heart,  you  may  call  yourself  brave. 

"But  ere  I  begin,  let  me  prove  to  you  that  I  do  not 
use  empty  words  when  I  tell  you  you  are  in  my 
power." 

She  glided  to  the  door  as  she  spoke,  and  threw  it 
open,  crying  fiercely  as  she  did  so : 

"Enter,  and  let  my  victim  know  with  whom  she  has 
to  deal !" 

As  Goldie's  staring  eyes  fixed  themselves  on  the 
'doorway,  she  almost  fainted  with  terror  to  see  the 
two  ruffians  step  into  it  and  look  upon  her  with 
greedy  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

"l    WILL   DESTROY   YOUR    BEAUTY!" 

A  scream  of  shame,  fear  and  horror  burst  from 
Goldie's  lips,  and  she  fell  back  on  her  pillow  a  prey 
to  dire  anguish. 

Mildred  laughed  like  the  archfiend  at  the  expression 
that  filled  the  violet  eyes,  and  turned  to  the  men,  say- 
ing: 

"Go  out  again.  She  knows  now  with  whom  she  has 
to  deal/' 

The  men  went  out  and  closed  the  door  behind  them. 
Mildred  went  nearer  to  Goldie  again  and  addressed 
her  in  hard  tones  of  unrelenting  hate. 

"You  may  dress  yourself.  Those  men  are  to  be 
your  companions  in  a  midnight  journey.  They  wilt 
enter  when  I  go  out;  so  unless  you  wish  them  for 
maids  you  will  dress  quickly." 

"Are  you  human?"  panted  Goldie,  quivering  with 
shame  and  terror. 

"I  am  one  whose  life  you  have  blasted  by  your  baby 
beauty,"  was  the  fierce  response;  "but  do  not  bandy] 
words  with  me.  Dress,  and  then  prepare  to  listen 
Some." 

Goldie   was   not  long   in   dressing,    and    Mildred 


248        "I  Will  Destroy  Your  Beauty!" 

watched  her  movements  with  a  terrible  smile  distort- 
ing her  face;  for,  as  she  dressed,  poor  Goldie  was 
looking  furtively  about  for  some  avenue  of  escape. 

"There  is  no  way  out  but  by  that  door,"  Mildred 
sneered.  "I  took  good  care  of  that.  Oh,  I  have  been 
planning  for  this  many  days!  Those  two  men  are 
the  most  depraved  and  ruthless  ruffians  I  could  find  in 
the  city  of  New  York.  I  hired  them  to  come  here  and1 
wait  for  us.  Oh,  they  will  make  you  a  nice  pair  of 
.companions !" 

"What  is  your  purpose?"  demanded  Goldie,  sum- 
moning up  her  courage  as  well  as  she  could. 

"My  purpose  is  to  be  avenged  for  the  injury  youi 
have  done  me.  Listen !  I  shall  have  those  men  spirit 
you  away  to  a  secret  place  they  have  prepared  for 
you,  and  ere  you  regain  your  liberty  you  will  be 
forced  to  wed  one  of  them." 

"Never!" 

"Are  you  so  sure?  Do  you  not  know  that  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  dishonor  in  this  world?  Those  men 
are  not  overnice,  my  little  beauty.  They  will  not  sue 
for  what  they  can  demand.  Take  my  advice  and  wed 
when  you  are  asked;  then  you  may  be  spared  muchi 
misery.  You  see  I  am  kind  after  all." 

"You  are  worse  than  they,  for  you  are  a  woman!" 
cried  Goldie. 

"I  am  a  furious  woman,  and  I  am  far — far  worse 


"I  Will  Destroy  Your  Beauty  1"       249 

than  they !  Better  look  for  mercy  from  them  than 
from  me!" 

"I  shall  be  sought  by  my  friends !"  Goldie  cried. 

"You  mean  that  you  will  be  sought  by  Donald.  Ah ! 
I  knew  what  your  instant  thought  would  be.  See  how 
I  have  provided  against  that!  This  is  a  letter  from 
you  to  him.  I  warrant  you  would  not  know  yourself 
that  you  did  not  write  it." 

She  held  the  letter  so  that  Goldie  could  see  but 
not  touch  it;  and  the  poor  girl  saw  that  it  was  in- 
deed so  perfect  a  copy  of  her  handwriting  that  no 
one  could  distinguish  between  it  and  her  own. 

"Now  I  will  read  it,"  Mildred  said  vindictively. 

She  spread  out  the  sheet  and  read  it  aloud,  Goldie 
standing  like  one  paralyzed  with  horror  as  she  lis- 
tened : 

"DEAREST  DONALD  :  This  will  be  the  last  time  that 
I  ever  shall  address  you  in  this  or  any  other  way. 
I  can  bear  my  misery  no  longer.  Mildred  triumphs 
over  her  victory  and  makes  life  hateful  to  me.  But 
I  could  bear  that  were  it  not  that  I  know  you  never 
can  be  mine. 

"I  have  come  with  Mildred  to  her  country  house, 
and  might  learn  to  forget  my  misery,  if  not  you,  were 
I  permitted  to  be  here  alone.  But  I  cannot  endure  to 
remain  under  the  same  roof  with  one  who  bears  your 
name,  and  who  constantly  reminds  me  of  you. 

"I  am  going  from  here,  and  if  I  live,  which  my 


250       "I  Will  Destroy  Your  Beauty!" 

sotd  tells  me  is  not  to  be,  I  shall  never  appear  again 
where  anyone  who  has  ever  known  me  is  likely  to  be. 
"Pray  Heaven  to  forgive  me  if  I  do  the  one  thing 
that  will  bring  me  forget  fulness.  My  sorrow  is  greater 
than  I  can  bear.  Yours  in  life  and  death, 

"GOLDIE." 

"It  will  kill  him,"  Goldie  moaned,  her  first  thought 
being  of  him  she  loved. 

i      "It  is  a  cunning  letter,  is  it  not?"  gloated  Mildred. 
"Ah !  I  studied  well  over  its  terms  ere  I  committed  it 
!  to  paper.     It  will  fool  him  well." 

"Oh,  Mildred!  are  you  human?"  wailed  Goldie. 

"No,  I  am  not  human,  as  you  will  learn  before  I  am 
through.  This  is  but  the  beginning.  Here  is  another 
letter  addressed  to  me.  It  tells  me  that  you  have  de- 
termined to  leave  me  and  my  roof  forever,  and  begs 
me  not  to  follow  you.  Ha!  ha!  Of  course  I  shall 
be  heartbroken,  and  shall  have  the  place  searched.  It 
will  be  a  capital  comedy." 

Goldie  shrank  away,  as  if  despairing  of  either 
escape  or  of  softening  the  heart  of  her  persecutor. 

"Do  you  comprehend  yet  what  your  fate  is  to  be? 
fVou  are  to  wed  one  of  those  men.  I  believe  they  and 
a  companion  just  as  vile  are  to  throw  dice  to  decide 
to  which  of  them  you  are  to  belong.  Believe  me,  there 
is  little  to  choose  between  them." 


"I  Will  Destroy  Your  Beauty!"       251 

"They  may  kill  me,  but  they  shall  not  make  me 
wed,"  whispered  Goldie,  in  horror. 

"It  matters  not  to  me  whether  you  wed  one  of 
them  or  not.  Dishonor  will  be  your  portion  if  yoL:  do 
not.  But  that'  I  must  leave  to  you.  There  is  another 
thing:  You  are  very  beautiful.  I  admit  it.  You  are 
exquisitely  beautiful." 

She  smiled  hideously  as  she  spoke,  her  eyes  roving 
over  the  bewitching  form  and  face  of  the  poor  girl. 

"Really,  I  do  not  wonder  that  Donald  fell  in  love 
with  you.  I  think  any  man  would.  See  how  infatu- 
ated my  father  was !  Your  beauty  makes  you  danger- 
ous to  the  peace  of  other  women,  Goldie.  Did  you 
ever  think  of  that?" 

"Oh,  Heaven's  mercy!  what  awful  thought  is  in 
your  brain  now?"  gasped  Goldie,  terrified  by  what  she 
saw  revealed  in  the  glittering  eyes  of  the  other. 

"What!  does  my  face  betray  what  is  going  on 
within?  It  is  bad,  Goldie,  dear,  to  have  a  telltale 
face.  Perhaps  it  will  be  otherwise  with  you  in  the 
future." 

Her  hand  was  stealing  down  into  the  folds  of  her 
gown,  as  she  spoke  in  tones  that  were  a  horrible  mock- 
ery of  tenderness  and  love. 

And  she  glided  constantly  nearer  to  Gcldie,  her 
lurid  eyes  fixed  like  coals  of  fire  on  the  blanched  face 
and  cowering  form. 


252        "I  Will  Destroy  Your  Beauty !" 

But  Goldie  retreated  as  slowly  as  the  other  advanced, 
as  if  she  feared  some  frightful  development. 

"Ah,  my  dear  Goldie,"  murmured  Mildred,  with 
hideous  mockery,  "do  not  go  from  me.  It  is  unkind 
and  useless,  too;  for  I  shall  surely  come  up  to  you 
unless  you  wish  to  fly  to  my  friends  on  the  other  side 
of  the  door  for  protection." 

Goldie  shuddered  with  terror,  and  glanced  invol- 
untarily at  the  door,  near  which  she  stood  then.  And; 
yet  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  would  almost  rather  trust 
to  those  wretches  than  to  the  woman  who  glided  after 
her  so  stealthily,  and  with  such  an  awful  purpose 
gleaming  in  her  baleful  eyes. 

And  now  Goldie  began  to  notice  the  hand  that 
sought  something  in  the  gown,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the 
movements  of  that  hand  fascinated  her,  for  she  could 
not  help  but  watch  it. 

"You  are  wondering  what  I  seek  here,  I  think/' 

murmured   Mildred,   her  white  teeth  gleaming  in  a 

(  smile  that  was  terrible  in  its  fury.    "Ah!  you  shall  see 

presently,  and  after  that  you  shall  wish  that  you  had 

never  seen/' 

She  drew  a  wide-mouthed  bottle  from  her  pocket 
as  she  spoke,  and  held  it  up  before  the  eyes  of  the 
other. 

"You  look  as  if  you  did  not  even  suspect,  Goldie. 
[Well,  I  will  tell -you.  I  swore,  when  your  beauty; 


"  I  Will  Destroy  Your  Beauty  ! "       253 

robbed  me  of  my  lover,  that  I  would  destroy  that 
beauty  so  that  it  would  rob  no  other  girl.  And  that 
is  what  I  am  going  to  do  now. 

"Ah!  do  not  think  to  escape  me.  You  cannot  do 
that.  This  is  vitriol,  and  I  shall  dash  it  over  your  pink- 
and- white  face.  Then  it  will  eat  away  the  soft  flesh, 
and  will  leave  you  scarred  and  hideous. 

"Now  do  you  understand?  Now  do  you  know  what 
it  is  to  cross  the  path  of  one  who  loves  as  I  love? 
Take  this  on  your  fair  face,  and  live  a  creature  so  ugly 
that  men  will  shudder  when  they  look  on  you 1" 


CHAPTER  XXXIL 

AN     AWFUL     MOMENT. 

Perhaps  the  most  awful  moment  in  the  life  of  Goldie 
was  v»rhen  she  looked  into  the  passion-distorted  face  of 
Mildred  and  realized  that  there  was  nothing  conceiv- 
able that  she  would  not  do  to  wreck  her  happiness. 

She  knew  by  the  implacable  hatred  she  saw  there, 
by  the  almost  insane  jealousy  that  glowed  in  the  mid- 
night orbs,  that  the  threat  which  the  lips  had  uttered 
would  be  executed,  if  nothing  interposed  to  prevent. 

And  what  could  interpose,  in  that  lonely  room? 
IWhat  was  to  hinder  that  poised  bottle  from  spilling  its 
burning  contents  on  the  fair  face  ? 

"Mildred,  spare  me  this!"  Goldie  moaned,  clasping 
her  little  handss  together. 

"Spare  you!"  hissed  Mildred,  holding  her  hand  as 
if  from  the  purely  malignant  pleasure  of  seeing  her 
victim's  agony.  "I  would  not  Spare  you;  though  you 
pleaded  from  your  dying-bed.  I  have  sworn  to  look 
upon  your  scarred  and  hideous  face,  so  that  I  might 
gloat  over  it.  Spare  you!  no,  ten  thousand  times 
no!" 

"May  Heaven  have  mercy  on  you  in  your  hour  of 
need!"  murmured  Goldie,  covering  her  face  with  hetf 


An  Awful  Moment.  255 

hands,  and  resigning  herself  to  her  fate,  because  hor- 
ror seemed  to  paralyze  her  limbs. 

The  horrid  laugh  of  hate  and  fiendish  joy  that  broke 
from  the  lips  of  Mildred  made  the  blood  run  cold  in 
the  veins  of  her  hearer. 

"I  ask  for  no  mercy,"  she  cried.  "I  have  prayed 
for  this  hour  to  come,  and  now  I  shall  be  content  with 
the  future.  I  gloat  in  anticipation  over  the  hour  when 
Donald  shall  look  upon  your  scarred  face,  when  he 
shall  know  that  you  have  become  the  bride  of  one  of 
the  vilest  of  the  vile.  Ah !  this  is  a  vengeance  worthy 
of  the  cause. 

"Spare  you !  pity  you !  why,  every  scream  of  agony 
that  passes  your  lips  will  be  music  to  my  ears,  and  your 
wild  writhings  of  pain  will  make  my  eyes  rejoice. 
Did  you  not  come  between  me  and  my  love?  But 
for  the  face  whose  beauty  I  shall  destroy  forever, 
would  he  not  now  be  my  faithful  lover? 

"And  now  prepare  to  feel  the  fiery  vitriol  eating  its 
way  to  the  very  bone.  Prepare  for  an  agony  of  mind 
and  body  such  as  is  known  to  but  few.  Realize 
on  earth  the  torments  of  the  damned !" 

With  a  wild,  gurgling  cry  of  hate,  as  if  her  throat 
refused  to  longer  serve  her  horrid  purpose  of  vitupera- 
tion, Mildred  snatched  the  little  hands  from  the  beauti- 
ful face,  and  held  the  bottle  over  the  doomed  eyes, 
which  gazed  in  silent  horror  upward. 


356  An  Awful  Moment. 

"I  think  not,  Mrs.  Irwin." 

The  bottle  was  snatched  deftly  from  her  hand  at 
the  very  moment  that  its  contents  were  about  to  be 
poured  down  upon  the  helpless  victim. 

With  a  strangled  cry  of  rage  Mildred  turned  and 
faced  the  principal  villain  of  the  two  she  had  engaged. 

"Give  me  that  bottle!  Give  it  to  me,  I  say!  How 
dare  you  come  between  me  and  my  vengeance!  Be- 
ware of  what  you  do!" 

Her  beautiful  face  was  such  no  longer  as  it  grew 
distorted  with  insane  rage  and  fury. 

Even  the  hardened  ruffian  recoiled  from  her.  But 
he  did  not  yield  up  the  bottle  to  her  working  fingers. 

Goldie,  recovering  the  use  of  her  limbs  under  the 
shock  of  a  respite  from  her  fate,  sprang  to  the  other 
side  of  the  apartment  and  cowered  against  the  wall. 

Her*  great  violet  eyes  remained  fastened  on  the 
faces  of  the  two  enemies  who  quarreled  over  her,  and 
her  palpitating  heart  began  to  throb  with  the  hope  that 
between  them  she  might  yet  escape  the  horrors  Mil- 
dred had  prepared  for  her. 

"No,"  said  Harry,  sullenly,  "you  shall  not  have  it." 

"Do  not  dare  to  trifle  with  me !"  she  hissed,  crouch- 
ing like  a  tigress  about  to  spring.  "Give  me  the 
bottle!" 

He  drew  back  with  a  scowl  of  anger. 

"Don't  imagine  you  can  play  that  game  on  me,  my 


An  Awful  Moment.,  257 

lady,"  he  said.     "You  are  no  Sunday-school  miss,  but 
I  am  no  chicken  myself.     Let  us  have  fair  play/1 

"Fair  play !    Have  I  not  paid  you  well  ?" 
1      "I  don't  deny  it." 

"Was  it  not  a  part  of  the  bargain  that  you  should 
remain  in  there  until  I  was  ready  for  you?" 

"Quite  right." 

"Oh,  sir!"  gasped  Goldie  in  terror,  "do  not  let  her 
have  it  again.  I  have  done  her  no  wrong.  I  have 
'done  all  I  could  to  let  her  have  the  man  she  loves,  and 
before  Heaven  I  have  no  thought  of  coming  between 
him  and  her." 

"Don't  fret  yourself,  my  little  beauty,"  was  the  gruff 
response;  "I'm  not  going  to  let  her  have  it.  I  guess 
not.  What !  let  her  destroy  a  face  like  that  ?  Let-  her 
mar  a  pair  of  such  lips?  No,  no,  no!  See!  this  is 
what  I  will  do  with  the  acid." 

He  turned  swiftly  as  he  spoke,  and  poured  the  con- 
tents of  the  bottle  on  the  embers  of  the  fire. 

A  fierce  scream  of  rage  broke  from  the  lips  of  Mil- 
dred at  his  action,  and  it  looked  for  a  moment  as  if 
she  would  precipitate  herself  on  him. 

He  looked  at  her  and  laughed  wickedly,  holding  up 
the  bottle,  which  still  contained  a  small  portion  of  the 
vitriol. 

"Better  not,"  he  said.    "It  will  burn  you  as  well  as. 


258  An  Awful  Moment. 

another.  It  is  no  respecter  of  persons.  Keep  off,  my 
iady!" 

A  hoarse,  incoherent  cry  was  her  only  response,  and 
she  drew  back  with  grinding  teeth  and  clinched  hands. 
He  poured  all  that  remained  into  the  fireplace. 

She  watched  him  for  a  moment,  aod  then  a  new 
thought  seemed  to  take  possession  of  her,  and  she 
turned  with  the  swiftness  of  lightning  and  leaped 
toward  Goldie,  crying: 

"I  will  tear  her  eyes  out  with  these  fingers.  She 
shall  not  escape  my  vengeance." 

The  man  uttered  an  oath  and  sprang  after  her,  but 
his  movements  were  too  slow,  and  if  it  had  depended 
on  him,  Goldie  might  have  yet  become  a  victim  to  the 
fury  of  Mildred. 

But  the^oung  girl  was  on  her  guard  new,  and  at 
the  movement  of  her  unrelenting  foe,  she  glided  from 
her  place,  and  in  a  moment  was  where  the  man  could 
protect  her. 

"Well  done!"  be  exclaimed  with  a  laugh.  "But 
I  swear  it  is  a  novelty  when  anybody  turas  to  me  for 
protection  against  any  worse  person.  It  never  hap- 
pened before.  Keep  it  up,  Mrs.  Irwin.  You  may 
make  her  love  me  before  you  get  through." 

Goldie  shrank  in  horror  from  him  as  he  turned  his 
leering  face  toward  her.  He  laughed  at  the  rpove- 


An  Awful  Moment.  259 

ment,  but  interposed  his  person  between  Goldie  and 
Mildred, 

"Curse  you  both!"  hissed  the  latter,  beside  herself 
with  fury. 

"Take  care,"  laughed  the  man,  who  had  now  re- 
covered all  his  insolent  ease  of  manner.  "Curses,  they 
say,  always  come,  home  to  roost." 

Mildred  ground  her  little  white  teeth  in  the  very 
impotence  of  rage. 

"Come/'  he  said,  "why  not  be  reasonable?  You 
don't  suppose  I  want  my  pretty  bride  made  hideous, 
do  you?" 

"I  will  pay  you  well  for  it!"  cried  Mildred,  turning1 
on  him  with  a  sudden  hope.  "You  have  but  to  name 
your  price  and  I  will  pay  it.  My  vengeance  will  not  be 
complete  until  I  have  destroyed  the  beauty  which  has 
been  my  cti'rse  from  first  to  fast.  See  how  even  you 
take  her  part!" 

He  laughed. 

"I  am  not  taking  her  'part ;  I  am  taking  my  own 
part.  It  ise't  often  a  fellow  has  the  chance  to  win 
at  bride  so  beautiful  and  so  rich  at  once.  Why,  you 
can't  pay  me  as  much  as  she  can.  I  don't  need  money 
when  I  have  her  bank  account  to  draw  on." 

"What  is  her  beauty  to  you.  Give  her  to  me  for  a 
little  while!"  coaxed  Mildred. 

Goldie  waited  with  a  terrible  anxiety  for  the  issue 


260  An  Awful  Moment. 

of  a  dialogue  which,  at  the  best,  was  most  horrible 
to  her. 

It  seemed  to  her  as  if  the  whole  scene  was  too  awful 
to  be  true.  She  almost  expected  to  open  her  eyes 
presently  and  discover  that  all  had  been  but  a  night- 
mare. 

"What  is  her  beauty  to  me!"  he  repeated.  "What 
is  beauty  to  anyone?  Who  can  answer  that  question? 
And  yet  beauty  has  been  the  thing  most  valued  in  all 
the  history  of  the  world." 

It  was  plain  to  Mildred  that  she  must  seem  to  ac- 
quiesce now  in  order  that  her  opportunity  might  come 
later  \  for  the  purpose  that  was  in  her  heart  would 
never  yield  to  anything  but  success. 

"All  of  which  means  that  you,  too,  have  fallen  in 
love  with  the  milk  and  roses  of  her  cheeks,"  she 
sneered. 

"That  is  what  it  means,"  he  replied,  with  a  mocking 
bow. 

"And  suppose  your  companions  feel  as  you  do?"  she 
asked,  gazing  now  at  the  face  of  the  other  ruffian  with 
hope  in  her  heart. 

The  leader  smiled  derisively. 

"Do  you  fancy  you  can  make  strife  between  Jake 
and  me?  Jake,  my  good  lady,  does  not  have  the  same 
keen  appreciation  of  beauty  that  I  do.  He  worships 


An  Awful  Moment,  261 

phoney.  Oh,  we  shall  make  a  fair  division  of  the 
spoils.  What  do  you  say,  Jake?" 

That  ruffian  grinned.  He  seemed  to  think  every- 
thing his  companion  said  exquisitely  funny. 

"I  say  that  if  I  had  my  choice,  old  man,  I'd  take 
the  missis  herself." 

The  leader  broke  into  a  hoarse  guffaw. 

"Well  said,  Jake.'  There,  Mrs.  Irwin !  you  can  never 
say  Jake  is  not  a  man  of  gallantry/' 

Mildred  bit  her  lip  in  her  fury. 

"Let  us  have  done  with  this  foolery!  Take  her 
away!" 

She  turned  fiercely  on  the  cowering  and  helpless 
Goldie. 

"I  have  been  balked  of  the  sweetest  morsel  of  my 
revenge ;  but  enough  remains.  You  go  with  these  two 
scoundrels,  who  only  have  a  sort  of  pity,  now,  in  order 
that  you  may  be  reserved  for  a  fate  which  I  know 
gives  you  greater  anguish  than  the  thought  of  mutila- 
tion. 

"Take  her,  wretches!  I  need  not  make  you  promise 
that  you  will  perform  the  remainder  of  your  task  faith- 
fully, for  it  is  such  as  self-interest  urges  you  to  do. 

"Take  her  away!  But  do  not  fancy,  Goldie  Selden, 
that  you  have  escaped  my  full  hate  because  you  go 
scathless,  now.  Until  I  die  I  will  pursue  you.  I  shall 
never  rest  until  I  have  robbed  you  of  your  beauty." 


262  An  Awful  Moment. 

"Don't  fret  yourself  about  her,  my  dear/'  said  the 
wretch,  with  a  leer  of  admiration  at  the  lovely  face. 
"I  intend  to  take  good  care  of  you.  I  always  was  an 
admirer  of  beauty ;  and  the  blonde  sort  is  my  choice. 

"So  come  along,  and  we  will  find  a  more  comforta- 
ble place  for  you  than  this  is.  Now,  don't  hang  back, 
my  dear.  I  have  a  trifle  of  chloroform  in  my  pocket 
which  I  shall  feel  obliged  to  give  you  if  you  do  not 
come  peaceably  and  quietly. 

"Good  night,  Mrs.  Irwin!  Any  time  I  have  any- 
thing in  your  line  let  me  know,  for  I  shall  be  in  your 
debt  for  this  beautiful  bride." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A   'FUTILE    STRUGGLE. 

It  seemed  impossible  that  such  things  could  happen 
in  a  civilized  land ;  but  the  fact  stared  poor  Goldie  in 
the  face. 

If  hope  had  pointed  out  one  loophole  of  escape,  she 
would  have  had  the  courage  to  struggle.  But  there 
seemed  nothing  to  do  but  submit. 

It  was  horrible  beyond  measure  to  think  of  going1 
with  wretches  who  avowed  such  purposes  as  they  did, 
but  the  terror  which  the  fury  of  Mildred  had  inspired 
within  her  actually  made  her  feel  safer  with  even  the 
pair  of  ruffians. 

Moreover,  it  was  plain  that  she  would  have  pleaded 
m  vain  to  be  permitted  to  remain  in  the  power  of 
Mildred.  There  was  no  choice  whatever,  unless  she 
preferred  to  be  carried  away  under  the  influence  of  a 
drug,  which  would  leave  her  helpless. 

Horrible  as  the  choice  was,  it  was  better  to  accept 
the  alternative  and  go  quietly  with  the  men. 

"I  will  put  my  faith  in  Heaven/'  she  said  to  the 
man.  "I  have  done  no  harm,  and  I  know  Heaven 
will  protect  me," 

"Put  your  faith  where  you  will/'  he  sneered;  "but 


264  A  Futile  Struggle. 

don't  be  foolish  enough  to  make  a  fuss,  for  as  surely 
as  you  do,  Jake,  there,  will  pick  you  up  in.  his  arms 
and  smother  you  while  I  stupefy  you.  Behave  your- 
self and  no  harm  shall  come  to  you." 

Mildred  had  regained  control, of  herself,  and  was 
waiting  for  the  party  to  disappear,  in  order  that  sh£ 
might  conclude  the  work  of  giving  the  room  a  sem- 
blance of  having  been  left  voluntarily.  , .  . 

A  sneer  curled  her  lip  as  she  looked  at  the  uplifted 
eyes  and  prayerful  face  of  Goldie,  and  she  said  mock- 
ingly:. 

"If  Heaven  should  interfere  to  save  you  from  your 
destined  husband,  please  let  me  know." 

The  men  laughed  at  the  blasphemy,  which  was  $&' 
much  in  keeping  with  their  own  modes  of  thought,  and 
the  leader  said  to  Goldie : 

"Don't  mind  her,  my  dear.  Put  on  your  wraps,  and 
gather  together  anything  you  wish  to  take  with  you. 
You  might  as  well  be  comfortable.  The  journey  will 
be  long  and  cold." 

Goldie  thought  at  first  to  refuse  to  do  a  thing  that 
would  indicate  a  willing  departure;  but  a  second 
thought  determined  her  to  act  otherwise. 

She  donned  her  hat  and  coat,  and  collected  a  num- 
ber of  things,  which  she  put  in  a  small  hand  satchel 

"TJmph!"  grunted  the  man  called  Jake  in  the  ear 


A  Futile  Struggle.  365 

of  the  other,  "she  takes  it  kinder  than  I  thought  she 
would.  Stuck  on  your  beauty,  I  guess/7 

The  fellow  laughed  hoarsely,  and  answered  in  a 
whisper : 

"She  has  sense  enough  to  know  that  when  there's 
no  choice  it's  no  use  to  make  a  row.  It  looks  to  me  as 
if  she  would  be  reasonable  to  the  end.  If  we  play  our 
cards  right,  old  man,  you  and  I  and  Bill  ought  to  live 
on  the  fat  of  the  land." 

"Leave  you  alone  for  that,  Harry.  I'll  stick  by  you, 
and  so  will  Bill.  You  can  take  the  gal,  and  all  we  ask 
is  our  share  of  the  boodle." 

"And  you'll  get  it,  Jake.  Why,  she's  worth  a  cool 
million.  Over  three  hundred  thousand  apiece." 

Goldie  stood  ready  with  her  satchel  in  her  hand,  and 
the  leading  ruffian  stepped  forward  to  take  it  from  her. 

"Let  me  keep  it,"  she  said,  pleadingly. 

He  laughed  hoarsely. 

"Upon  my  word,  I  do  believe  you  think  you  can  es- 
cape. You  can't  do  that,  my  beauty.  Keep  your 
satchel,  since  you  wish  to,  and  learn  that  our  arrange- 
ments are  too  well  made." 

He  led  the  way  out  of  the  room  as  he  spoke,  mo- 
tioning her  to  follow  him. 

Jake  came  behind  her,  and  a  glance  told  her  that  he 
was  ready  to  grasp  her  in  his  arms  at  the  first  sus- 
ipicious  movement. 


366  A  Futile  Struggle. 

Mildred  followed  them  with  her  eyes  until  they  were 
out  of  the  room.  Her  teeth  were  set  as  if  she  were 
exerting  her  utmost  powers  of  self-control  to  keep 
from  breaking  forth  in  fury. 

"Why  did  I  not  anticipate  this  result?"  she  mut- 
tered. "I  might  have  known  that  her  beauty  would 
bewitch  the  fellow.  What  is  there  in  her  that  seems  to 
drive  men  mad? 

"If  I  had  but  suspected  I  could  have  arranged  to 
let  them  all  die  on  their  way  out.  I  would  rather  see 
her  dead  than  going  away  so.  How  can  I  tell  that  she 
will  not  escape? 

"I  might  kill  her,  now.  Shall  I  do  it  ?  No,  it  would 
not  be  wise.  I  might  be  discovered  through  those 
wretches ;  and  then  my  plot  would  come  to  a  sad  end- 
ing indeed. 

"No,  I  can  wait.  She  cannot  escape  me.  They  will 
not  let  her  go.  It  is  to  their  interest  to  keep  her  until 
she  is  bound  to  one  of  them  by  ties  of  marriage. 

"It  is  the  leader  who  will  wed  her,  and  that  means 
dishonor.  Ah!  he  does  not  suspect  that  I  know  that 
he  has  a  wife  living.  Dishonor  to  her!  Disgrace  and 
despair!'* 

She  laughed  discordantly  as  she  spoke,  and  began 
to  put  the  room  into  such  order  as  it  would  be  Hkety 
to  have  if  Goldre  had  really  stolen  away  from  it. 

She  tossed  some  of  the  contents  of  the  trunk  on 


A  Futile  Struggle.  267 

floor,  laid  aside  a  few  things  to  be  hidden — things 
which  it  was  likely  Goldie  would  have  taken  had  she 
gone  over  her  trunk  more  deliberately — and  finally 
placed  the  letters  which  had  been  forged  on  the  dress- 
ing table. 

She  then  unlocked  the  door  leading  into  the  hall,  saw 
that  the  secret  door  was  properly  closed  and  fastened, 
and  then  stole  out  and  downstairs  to  unlock  the  hall 
door. 

There  remained  nothing  now  but  to  go  upstairs  to 
where  the  ruffians  had  made  their  abiding  place,  and 
see  that  they  had  left  everything  in  order. 

She  did  all  this,  and  then  returned  to  her  own  room 
with  her  face  hard  and  set,  as  if  there  was  no  remorse 
in  her  breast  for  the  poor  girl  who  had,  through  her 
instrumentality,  been  handed  over  to  the  merciless 
keeping  of  a  band  of  scoundrels. 

Goldie,  meanwhile,  had  been  hurried  silently  but 
swiftly  through  the  secret  passage  to  the  garret,  and 
from  there  down  by  the  back  staircase  to  a  door  which 
was  little  used,  and  to  which  the  men  with  her  had 
a  key. 

A  dozen  times  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  utter 
a  scream  that  should  arouse  some  inmate  of  the  house, 
but  each  time  it  seemed  as  if  one  or  the  other  of  her 
captors  divined  her  purpose  and  whispered  grimly  in 
her  ear: 


268  A  Futile  Struggle. 

"Do  not  forget  that  the  least  sign  of  resistance  ends 
in  the  use  of  the  drug.  It  is  for  you  to  choose.'1 

So  she  found  herself  at  last  outside  of  the  house, 
hurrying  between  the  two  men  toward  where  the  lawn 
ended  in  some  straggling  trees. 

One  held  her  by  one  arm,  the  other  by  the  other,  so 
that  resistance  or  flight  was  out  of  the  question. 

"Oh,  where  are  you  taking  me  to?"  she  wailed. 

"You  will  learn  that  in  good  time,  my  little  beauty. 
Rest  assured  that  no  harm  will  come  to  you  unless  you 
bring  it  on  yourself  by  your  own  conduct." 

"What  can  you  gain  by  treating  me  so?"  she 
pleaded.  "Is  it  my  money  you  wish  ?  I  will  swear  to 
you  by  the  most  solemn  oath  that  if  you  will  free  rne, 
I  will  make  over  to  you  every  cent  I  possess.  I  am 
used  to  poverty  and  am  not  afraid  of  it.  You  shall 
have  every  cent ;  and,  oh,  it  will  be  honestly  yours.  No 
one  shall  have  the  right  to  say  a  word  against  your 
possession  of  it.  Won't  that  tempt  you?" 

"I  say,  Harry,"  growled  Jake,  "ain't  that  worth 
thinking  of?" 

"No,  you  fool!" 

"Well,  it's  just  as  you  say,  Harry.  You'd  ought  to 
know.  It  seems  to  me,  though,  that  she  offers  every- 
thing we  could  get  anyhow,  and  no  risk." 

"There  won't  be  any  risk  anyhow,"  was  the  gruff 
response. 


A  Futile  Struggle.  269 

*  -But  why  should  you  resort 'to  force  when  I  am  will- 
ing to  give  it  all  freely?"  pleaded  Goldie  eagerly. 
"What  more  can  you  ask  for?" 

"Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my  beauty,"  answered 
the  fellow,  taking  a  firmer  hold  of  the  round  arm,  "I 
"am  just  fool  enough  to  care  more  for  yoii  than  for 
your  money.  I  want  you." 

"But  I  will  never  wed  you,"  she  cried  passionately. 
"I  would  die  first." 

"If  it  were  a  question  of  death  or  marriage  I  might 
take  up  your  offer,"  he  answered  coolly;  "but  it  isn't." 

"I  will  never  wed  you !"  she  panted ;  and  then  ut- 
tered a  gasping  cry,  and  tried  to  wrench  herself  free 
from  the  hands  that  held  her. 

"A  little  tiger  cat,  after  all!"  laughed  the  leader 
harshly.  "The  chloroform,  Jake." 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no!"  she  screamed,  fighting  in  sheer 
desperation. 

But  the  strong  arms  of  the  leader  were  clasped 
about  her,  and  in  a  few  seconds  she  was  being  at  once 
stifled  and  drugged  within  the  folds  of  a  great  cloak, 
which  had  been  thrown  over  her  head. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
GOLDIE'S  PERIL. 

When  Goldie  recovered  consciousness,  she  was 
aware  m  a  dim,  confused  way  that  she  was  in  a  car- 
riage drawn  by  a  pair  of  swift  horses,  which  were  be- 
ing urged  to  speedy  flight  by  the  driver. 

She  started  up,  with  the  thought  of  making  some 
wild  attempt  at  escape,  but  instantly  became  aware  of 
the  futility  of  such  a  proceeding. 

"Awake,  eh?''  said  the  voice  of  the  man  called 
Harry.  "Well,  don't  get  excited ;  we  are  almost  at  our 
journey's  end.  Oh!  you  couldn't  escape  if  I  wasn't 
here.  The  doors  are  securely  closed.  Quiet,  now,  my 
dear,  unless  you  wish  to  feel  the  restraint  of  my  arms." 

She  shrank  away  with  a  gasping  cry  of  horror  as 
she  felt  his  arms  about  to  encircle  her.  He  laughed. 

"Not  very  flattering,  but  I  suppose  it  can't  be  helped. 
However,  if  you  are  wise  you  will  try  to  accustom 
yourself  to  the  notion  of  marrying  me.  That  is  a  set- 
tled thing." 

She  did  not  answer;  she  knew  instinctively  that  it 
would  be  useless  to  enter  into  any  controversy  with 
him.  So  there  was  silence  between  them,  for  he  was 
kind  enough  to  permit  her  to  be  undisturbed  by  his 
voice. 


Goldie's  Peril.  271 

Perhaps  half  an  hour  elapsed  before  the  carriage 
stopped. 

She  could  hear  a  man  leap  from  the  box  and  come 
to  the  door  of  the  vehicle. 

"Here  we  are !"  exclaimed  her  companion. 

The  door  was  pulled  open,  and  ere  she  could  utter 
a  word  of  remonstrance  she  was  caught  in  his  arms 
and  carried  up  a  short  flight  of  steps. 

She  screamed  wildly,  realizing  that,  if  ever,  she  must1 
escape  now. 

But  the  jeering  laughter  of  the  men  told  her  that 
they  did  not  fear  her  screams,  and  her  heart  sank  with 
terror  and  despair. 

The  place  of  her  imprisonment  must  indeed  be  se- 
cure from  discovery  if  it  was  so  isolated  that  there 
was  no  fear  of  her  screams  being  heard. 

It  took  Jake  but  a  moment  to  open  the  door,  and 
a  second  later  she  was  carried  inside  and  deposited  on 
a  chair  in  a  room  opening  oat  of  the  hall.  • 

" Welcome  home,  my  dear!"  laughed  the  man  who 
had  held  her.  "Jake,  get  that  lamp  lighted  and  go  see 
to  the  furnace.  It  hasn't  been  attended  to  for  twenty- 
four  hours." 

The  lamp  was  lighted,  and  the  frightened  girl  found 
herself  in  a  large,  old-fashioned  parlor,  furnished 
richly  but  in  antiquated  style. 

The  man  Jake  left  the  room  to  do  as  he  had  been 


272  Goldie's  Peril. 

bidden,  and  she  was  left  alone  with  the  one  she  feared1 
most.     He  smiled  grimly  at  her  expression,  and  said: 

"Don't  you  like  your  quarters?" 

"Is  there  nothing  I  can  say  that  will  persuade  you 
to  release  me?'*  she  asked  piteously. 

"Nothing.  The  truth  is  that  I  have  succumbed  to 
your  fascinations,  my  dear,  and  no  offer  of  money 
could  influence  me  to  give  you  up." 
b>  "Heaven- will  not  permit  it,"  she  cried,  gaining  cour- 
age from  her  very  wretchedness.  "And  I  will  never 
submit." 

She  cast  her  eyes  swiftly  about  the  chamber  as  she 
spoke,  and  he  smiled  ironically. 

"Oh,  you  might  escape  from  here,"  he  said;  "but 
this  is  not  your  apartment.  You  shall  be  taken  there 
presently.  It  has  been  prepared  for  an  unwilling 
visitor.  Gome,  my  dear!  I  know  you  must  be  tired 
and  half  sick  now,  so  do  not  try  to  argue  a  settled 
mailer  with  me.  To-myrrow  I  shall  do  myself  the 
honor  of  making  myself  more  presentable,  and  will 
then  wait  upon  you  to  let  you  know  when  the  cere- 
mony is  to  take  place." 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "I  am  weary,  body  and  soul,  but 
I  tell  you  now  as  I  shall  tell  you  to-»morrow  that  I  will 
not  wed  you.  I  know  that  Heaven  will  forgive  me 
any  act  which  shall  help  me  to  escape  from  your  fiend- 
ish proposition." 


Goldie's  Peril.  273 

"You  mean  suicide,"  he  said  calmly.  "Well,  the 
truth  is,  my  dear,  that  I  had  thought  of  that,  too,  and 
have  removed  everything  from  your  room  with  which 
you  could  by  any  possibility  harm  yourself/' 

Goldie  choked  back  something  which  seemed  to  rise 
in  her  throat.  The  fellow,  with  terrible  keenness, 
studied  her  face,  and  laughed  softly. 

"There  is  something  I  had  not  thought  of  before. 
iYou  have  in  your  possession  something  with  which  you 
hope  to  accomplish  your  desperate  purpose.  Well,  I 
shall  see  to  that,  too.  I  will  take  that  satchel,  if  you 
please." 

His  hand  was  on  the  satchel  before  she  could  pre- 
yent,  and  there  was  a  mocking  smile  on  his  lips  as  he 

said: 

• 

"Your  face  is  too  telltale,  my  dear.  But  do  not 
worry  about  that.  I  like  you  just  as  you  are.  And 
you  will  like  me  when  you  see  me  dressed  suitably. 
iWhy,  I  have  been  called  Handsome  Harry  in  my  time, 
and  if  I  could  only  leave  liquor  alone  for  a  while  I 
am  not  sure  I  would  not  be  called  so  again.  Oh!  we 
will  make  a  nice  pair." 

"You, cannot  coerce  me  to  w£d  you,"  she  said  de- 
fiantly. 

He  laughed  grimly. 

"What   ?ii   unsophisticated  little   beauty   you 


274  Goldie's  Peril. 

But  it  only  makes  me  love  you  the  better.  If  you  were 
a  proud,  knowing  creature  like  Mrs.  Irwin,  now.  you 
might  stand  some  chance  of  being  set  free.  In  fact 
I  don't  think  I  could  be  hired  to  marry  her. 

"So  your  only  idea  of  the  way  to  bring  about  a  mar- 
riage is  force.  Bless  your  innocent  heart!  No  min- 
ister would  marry  us  if  you  were  not  willing.  It  will 
be  necessary  for  you  to  be  a  willing  bride." 

"That  I  will  never  be." 

"How  little  you  know  yourself,  or  guess  at  the  re- 
sources of  a  mind  like  mine  that  has  been  trained  in 
many  different  schools.  There  are  several  ways  of 
bringing  you  around  to  willingness." 

She  shuddered  at  his  expression,  and  he  laughed 
wickedly. 

"There!"  he  exclaimed  wifch  a  pretense  of  soothing 
her  fears,  "don't  be  unnecessarily  alarmed.  Would 
you  like  to  know  how  I  purpose  bringing  that  about? 

"Well,  you  need  only  wait  until  to-morrow — to-day 
I  should  say,  however,  for  day  dawn  is  not  far  away. 
In  the  meantime "  he  stopped  and  listened. 

The  footsteps  of  the  returning  Jake  were  heard. 
A  strange,  significant  smile  passed  over  the  face  of  the 
leading  ruffian. 

Goldie  noted  it  with  a  sinking  of  the  heart.  The 
words  he  had  used  to  her,  and  his  assured  manner, 
made  her  feel  that  the  chain  of  circumstance  had  been 


BJUV. 

Goldie's  Peril.  275 

so  forged  about  her  that  in  spite  of  herself  she  would 
be  forced  to  wed  this  horrible  man. 

"In  the  meantime,"  he  went  on  grimly,  "we  will  in- 
duce you  to  slumber  quietly,  so  that  you  will  be  ready 
for  the  ceremony,  which  will  take  place  by  daylight/' 

She  leaped  to  her  feet  and  stared  at  him  with  fright- 
ened gaze. 

"What  is  it  you  are  going  to  do  ?"  she  cried. 

"I  am  going  to  put  you  to  sleep,  my  dear.  That 
is  all.". 

"I  will  not  take  any  drug!"  she  panted,  a  terrible 
fear  oppressing  her  that  if  she  went  to  sleep  then  she 
would  surely  wake  the  bride  of  this  wretch. 

There  was  something  in  his  manner  which  led  her 
to  feel  that  once  drugged  she  would  be  a  pliant  victim 
in  his  hands. 

She  had  read  that  there  were  drugs  that  chained  the 
will,  but  left  the  victim  apparently  conscious  and  com- 
plaisant. 

"I  think  you  cannot  help  yourself,"  he  said  with  a 
low,  hideous  chuckle.  "If  I  hold  you  and  Jake  gives 
you  a  dose  of  chloroform,  what  then?" 

"There  is  a  more  terrible  purpose  hidden  under  your 
words!"  she  screamed  in  terror. 

"It  is  true,"  he  answered.  "When  you  are  stupefied 
ever  so  little  by  the  chloroform,  you  will  swallow  what- 
ever I  give  you.  I  shall  give  you  a  drug  which  will 


276  Goldie's  Peril. 

make  you  obey  me  in  the  least  detail.  You  will  go  be- 
fore a  clergyman  with  me  and  will  answer  as  I  wish. 

"That,  my  dear,  is  what  is  going  to  happen  to  you. 
Jake,  the  chloroform!" 

As  he  spoke  he  caught  Goldie  by  the  arms  and  .held 
them  securely. 

Jake  produced  a  bottle  and  a  small  sponge  from  his 
coat  pocket. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

DONALD    IRWIN'S    QUEST. 

When  Donald  Irwin  burst  from  the  sight  of  Mildred 
after  the  ceremony  of  marriage,  it  could  hardly  be  said 
that  he  was  fully  conscious  of  what  he  was  doing. 

He  knew  that  he  must,  for  his  own  sake  and  for 
hers,  fly  from  her  presence,  for  to  remain  with  her  was 
likely  to  induce  a  sort  of  madness,  in  which  he  might 
do  what  he  would  forever  regret. 

His  loathing  for  her  was  as  much  instinctive  as  rea- 
soned out,  though  he  had  grounds  enough  for  repug- 
nance in  her  determination  to  make  him  wed  her  after 
he  had  plainly  told  her  he  did  not  and  could  not  love 
her. 

At  any  rate,  his  one  thought  during  the  whole  cere- 
mony was  to  keep  his  promise,  and  then  to  turn  from 
her  forever.  And  as  he  sped  down  the  street,  his  one 
.wish  was  to  get  far  away  from  the  place  where  he  had 
so  suffered,  and  where  his  suffering  love  still  must  re- 
main. 

Ah!  if  he  had  only  guessed  how  his  conduct  would 
add  fuel  to  the  fire  of  Mildred's  hatred,  he  would  never 
have  left  Goldie  unprotected. 

But  it  was  impossible  for  him,  or  for  anvone,  to 


278  Donald  Irwin's  Quest. 

divine  the  dark  depths  of  Mildred's  mind,  so  Goldie 
was  left  alone  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  storm  of  hatred 
and  revenge. 

He  went  to  the  railway  station  and  bought  a  ticket 
for  his  far  Southern  home,  thinking  that  there,  if  any- 
where, he  would  find  some  peace  of  mind. 

It  was  a  vain  hope,  as  he  discovered  immediately 
after  reaching  there,  for  his  hunger  was  to  be  once 
again  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  love. 

"Fool  that  I  was!"  he  murmured;  "why  did  I  not 
remain  where  now  and  again  my  eyes  could  be  cheered 
by  the  sight  of  her  golden  curls?" 

Then  he  determined  to  return  North  as  soon  as  he 
had  attended  to  some  matters  which  claimed  his  at- 
tention. He  worked  at  these  for  two  days,  then  came 
a  letter  in  handwriting  which  he  knew,  though  he  had 
seen  it  but  a  few  times. 

"From  her,"  he  murmured,  his  heart  throbbing 
wildly. 

He  could  not  hope  that  it  contained  any  word  of 
peace  or  joy  for  him,  and  yet  the  mere  thought  of  her, 
the  sight  of  her  dear  handwriting,  made  his  heart  leap. 

He  tore  open  the  letter  with  trembling  fingers  and 
read  it  through  to  the  end.  It  was  the  false  note 
forged  at  command  of  Mildred. 

His  breath  came  and  went  swiftly  as  he  read,  and 


Donald  Irwin's  Quest.  279 

his  heart  throbbed.  But  he  could  not  comprehend  why 
it  had  been  written  to  him. 

Something  whispered  to  him  that  it  was  not  such 
a  letter  as  his  darling  would  write,  and  yet  such  was 
the  cunning  of  -its  concoction  that  he  could  not  help 
seeing  that 'all  that  was  said  was  the  probable  truth. 

"If  it  were  from  any  other  but  that  pure  heart,"  he 
murmured,  "I  would  think  it  meant  that  she  wished 
me  to  hunt  her  out.  But  not  she,  not  she/' 

But  let  him  think  what  he  would  of  it,  it  had  sown 
the  spirit  of  unrest  in  him  so  deeply  that  he  could  not 
do  aught  else  but  weigh  its  words  over  and  over  again. 

"Let  its  meaning  be  what  it  will/'  he  cried,  at  last, 
"I  am  going  North  to  seek  her.  If  she  is  alone  she 
must  be  cared  for,  and  if  she  will  not  permit  me  that 
happiness,  as  well  I  know  she  will  not,  then  I  will  find 
some  trusty  person  who  will  be  my  proxy/' 

So  that  night  he  turned  his  back  on  his  Southern 
home,  and  traveled  by  express  to  New  York. 

He  found  no  letters  for  him  at  club  or  bank,  and  he 
did  not  know  what  to  do.  He  went  to  the  house  where 
he  had  left  Goldie,  and  when  he  found  it  closed,  re- 
membered that  the  letter  must  have  been  written  from 
the  country. 

That  reminded  him  that  it  was  to  the  house  of  Mil- 
I  dred  that  Goldie  had  gone,  and  for  the  first  time  a 
fcthrill  of  undefined  dread  shot  through  him 


280  Donald  IrwinV  Quest. 

Swift  as  thought  he  turned  from  the  house  and  has- 
tened to  the  station,  from  which  he  could  take  the  train 
for  Red  Oak. 

The  thought  that  was  in  his  brain  was  undefined, 
intangible,  and  yet  it  filled  his  soul  with  a  strange  fore- 
boding. 

He  did  not  know  Mildred  as  she  was,  but  he  could 
understand  that  she  had  turned  out  to  be  far  other 
than  he  had  dreamed  any  woman  could  be. 

Why  he  should  have  this  new  dread  of  her  connec- 
tion with  Goldie  he  could  not  have  told,  but  so  it  was, 
and  his  fear  increased  as  he  drew  nearer  the  country 
house. 

Mildred,  meanwhile,  was  expecting  a  visit  fom  him. 
It  was  to  bring  him  there,  partially,  that  she  had  had 
the  letter  forged.  And  strange  as  it  may  seem  there 
was  a  spark  of  hope  in  her  heart. 

Perhaps  she  hated  him  as  she  believed  she  did.  Cer- 
tainly she  would  do  him  a  terrible  injury  if  he  persisted! 
in  his  refusal  to  take  her  as  his  wife,  yet  it  was  true 
that  she  trembled  with  expectation  and  hope  as  the 
hour  approached  when  he  might  be  expected. 

She  had  slept  after  witnessing  the  abduction  of 
Goldie,  and  did  not  awake  in  the  morning  until  §he  was 
•roused  by  the  noise  of  the  discovery  by  one  of  the 
maids  that  the  hall  door  was  open. 

The  immediate  thought  in  the  house  was  that  bur* 


Donald  India's,  Qviest. 

glars  had  visited  there  during  the  night,  and  the  con- 
sternation was  great.  Regardless  of  the  awe  in  which 
she  was  held  by  the  servants,  word  was  taken  to  Mil- 
dred at  once,  and  she  was  actress  enough  to  feign  a 
fright  and  anger  suitable  to  the  circumstance. 

"See  what  is  stolen  first!"  she  cried  angrily,  "and! 
then  send  for  a  detective.  No,  I  will  do  that.  Find 
.out  my  loss  first." 

With  the  assistance  of  her  maid  she  hurriedly 
dressed  and  was  on  the  scene  in  time  to  learn  that  so 
far  as  was  discernible  there  was  nothing  missing. 

Then,  while  she  was  seemingly  trying  to  puzzle  that 
out,  Goldie's  maid  came  running  to  her  with  white  face 
and  faltering  voice,  saying  : 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Irwin!  Mrs.  Selden  is  not  in  her  room, 
and  these  two  letters  were  on  her  table." 

Mildred  stared  and  snatched  the  letters  from  the 
girl's  hand.  The  one  that  was  addressed  to  her  she 
tore  open  and  in  her  agitation  read  aloud. 

It  was  all  very  well  acted,  and  not  one  of  the  ser- 
vants doubted  as  they  listened  that  it  was  real  emotion 
that  she  showed  when  she  learned  that  her  father's 
widow  had  suddenly  gone  away. 


Mildred,"  the  letter  read,  "try  to  forgive  me 
for  leaving  you  in  this  strange  way,  but  the  truth  is 
that  I  cannot  remain  irnder  the  same  roof  with  yon. 
"I  *hope  you  will  understand.     I  am  sorry  if  you  do 


282  Donald  Irwin's  Quest. 

not,  but  this  is  the  only  explanation  I  can  make  you. 
You  need  not  search  for  me,  as  I  shall  go  where  no 
one  can  find  me.  GOLDIE  SELDEN." 

i  Everybody  thought  it  was  a  strange  epistle  to  come 
from  gentle  Goldie,  but  there  were  enough  of  those 
among  the  servants  to  shake  their  heads  and  say  that 
it  was  not  so  very  surprising  after  all. 

Donald  felt  odd,  indeed,  "as  he  stepped  from  the  car- 
riage and  paid  the  man  who  had  brought  him.  He 
was  at  the  door  of  his  wife's  house,  and  yet  was  a 
stranger  there. 

As  he  turned  from  paying  the  man,  .the  door  was 
opened,  and  he  was  admitted  with  an  air  that  told  him 
he  had  been  expected. 

He  stood  awkwardly  hesitating  for  whom  to  ask, 
when  the  servant  helped  him  out  of  his  dilemma  by 
saying : 

"Mrs.  Irwin  is  in  the  sitting  room,  sir.  Shall  I  tell 
her,  or  will  you  go  there  at  once  yourself  ?" 

"I  will  go  there/''  he  answered.  "Show  me  the 
way." 

The  man  led  him  to  the  sitting  room,  in  which  a 
bright  fire  was  burning,  and  which  would  have  been 
a  picture  of  cozy  comfort  but  for  the  fact  that  nothing 
seemed  right  to  him  at  that  moment. 

Mildred  had  artfully  arranged  the  room  to  present  a 
home-like  appearance,  thinking  that  if  he  was  to  be 


Donald  Irwin's  Quest.  283 

worTat  all,  it  wdtoJd  be  by  such  an  air  as  that.  No 
doubt  the  eyes  of  Donald  saw  that  the  room  was 
cheerful,  and  that  the  woman  who  rose  with  quiet  dig- 
nity to  greet  him  .was  beautiful. 

But  the  one  painful  and  apparent  fact  was  that 
Goldie  was  not  there.  It  was  she  who  was  in  his 
thoughts,  not  his  wife.  But  Mildred  stood  up  with  a 
manner  at  once  so  dignified  and  so  pleading  that  if  .his 
mind  had  not  been  full  of  Goldie  he  might  have  been 
softened. 

"You  are  welcome  to  this  hearth,  Donald/'  she  said, 
her  well-modulated  voice  conveying  suggestions  that 
went  far  beyond  the  words  uttered. 

He  did  not  answer  her,  but  took  a  few  steps  into  the 
room  and  stood  still,  gazing  with  a  painful  curiosity 
into  her  black  eyes. 

"I  received  a  letter  from  Goldie/'  he  said. 

She  had  known  that  he  came  there  in  response  to 
Goldie's  letter,  and  she  had  schooled  herself  to  expect 
just  such  a  reference  to  her  she  hated ;  and  yet,  when 
it  came  in  that  fashion,  it  almost  drove  her  beyond  her 
self-restraint. 

But  she  checked  herself  in  time,  and,  in  a  choking 
voice,  said: 

"I  sent  you  a  letter  left  behind  by  her  when  she  left 
me.  But  had  you  no  other  thought  in  coming  here, 
Donald?" 


284  Donald  Irwin's  Quest, 

She  could  have  bitten  her  tongue  out  for  uttering 
the  words  the  next  moment;  but  they  were  said,  and 
could  not  be  recalled. 

Donald  did  not  wish  to  anger  her  then ;  but  he  would 
not  retreat  a  step  from  the  position  he  had  taken,  so 
he  replied  in  a  low  tone : 

"Mildred,  I  would  never  have  come  here  but  for  this 
I  letter.  There  can  be  nothing  between  us,  for  I  do 
|  not  love  you.  Let  us  not  open  that  wound  again, 
j  please/' 

She  bit  her  lip  until  she  could  command  her  tongue ; 
'  then  said  slowly  and  with  an  effort : 

"We  will  talk  of  her^you  do  love — Goldie." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
GOLDIE'S  ESCAPE. 

The  human  heart  is  strange  in  its  manifestations, 
and  acts  according  to  no  fixed  rule ;  though  it  may 
always  be  consistent  with  itself. 

Goldie  had  looked  into  the  vengeful  eyes  of  Mil- 
dred, had  anticipated  the  burning  flood  of  vitriol,  and 
had  been  paralyzed  with  terror,  unable  to  move  a 
limb  to  save  herself. 

Now  she  was  in  the  clutches  of  two  strong  and 
wicked  men,  who  would  stop  at  no  crime,  and  because 
her  honor,  which  was  dearer  than  life  or  beauty,  was 
in  danger,  she  did  that  at  which  she  never  ceaJfed  to 
wonder. 

Her  arms  were  pinioned  by  the  sinewy  hands  of  the 
man  who  had  made  her  his  captive.  She  knew  that 
the  other  ruffian  was  swiftly  preparing  to  stupefy  her 
with  the  chloroform  which  was  contained  in  the  bottle 
in  his  hand. 

Her  limbs  trembled  under  her  and  her  life  seemed 
leaving  her;  but  as  it  fixed  itself  in  her  mind  that  the 
end  would  be  a  marriage  with  this  awful  wretch,  her 
brain  began  to  work. 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  she  comprehended  every- 


286  Goldie's  Escape, 

thing,  weighed  everything,  and  had  reached  a  deter- 
mination to  free  herself  if  possible. 

She  had  never  taken  part  in  private  theatricals,  had 
never  imitated  any  emotion  01  passion  in  her  life;  but 
at  that  moment  it  came  to  her  to  play  a  part,  and  she 
did. 

Jake  had  taken  the  sponge  in  one  hand  and  was 
ready  to  pour  chloroform  on'  it.  His  accomplice  was 
urging  him  to  haste,  saying: 

"Don't  take  all  day,  Jake.     Hurry  up!"' 

Goldie  gave  vent  to  a  wild  cry,  and  let  her  limbs 
sink  under  her,  at  the  same  time  murmuring  in  broken 
accents : 

"Heaven  have  mercy !'  Ah,  what  is  the  matter?  I — 
I  am  dying!  Help!  Hel- 

She  became  limp  and  inert,  and  her  limbs  failed  to 
support  her  longer. 

"She's  fainted,  Jake!"  cried  Harry. 
..      "What'll  I  do,  then?" 

"Never  mind  the  chloroform  now.     Get  the  other 

» 

stuff.  It  is  in  my  room  upstairs.  Hurry  up!  Put 
the  chloroform  there,  so  that  I  can  use  it  if  necessary/' 

He  carried  Goldie  to  a  lounge  as  he  spoke  and 
placed  her  on  it.  Jake  ran  from  the  room,  and  his 
companion  in  crime  crossed  the  room  to  pick  up  the 
6ottle  of  chloroform. 

It  was  t'.e  moment  Goldie  had  striven  to  gain  for 


Gol die's  Escape.  287 

herself.  Her  eyes  were  closed,  but  she  had  followed 
every  movement  by  the  sense  of  hearing  as  she  so  cun- 
ningly simulated  a  swoon. 

She  knew  that  it  was  one  chance  in  a  hundred  that 
she  could  escape ;  but  at  least  there  was  one  chance,  and 
she  would  take  it. 

The  ruffian's  back  was  toward  her,  and  he  in  the 
act  of  stooping  to  take  up  the  chloroform,  when,  with 
the  movement  of  a  startled  fawn,  Goldie  leaped  from 
the  lounge  and  glided  to  the  door. 

She  had  not  reached  it  ere  he  had  turned,  and,  with 
an  oath,  was  in  pursuit. 

"Fool!"  he  cried;  "do  you  think  to  get  away  so 
easily?" 

She  made  him  no  response  at  all.  Her  brain  was 
whirling  with  the  possibilities  of  her  case,  and  it 
seemed  to  her  that  her  brain  had  never  before  been  so 
active. 

If  she  could  but  reach  the  door  in  time  to  close  and 
fasten  it  in  his  face!  If  she  could  then  but  reach  the 
hall  door! 

She  could  not  stop  to  consider  how  she  would  escape 
in  the  darlmess  of  an  unknown  neighborhood  from 
three  active  men,  for  she  knew  there  was  yet  another 
of  the  scoundrels  who  had  remained  with  the  horses. 

Perhaps  he  had  gone  to  the  stable  with  them,  and 
might  even  now  be  outside  ready  to  intercept  her. 


I 


288  Goldie's  Escape. 

She  thought  of  these  things.  Or  more  correctly) 
they  flashed  through  her  mind  without  being  taken  into 
immediate  account,  but  her  brain  was  really  busy  with 
the  present  problem. 

She  had  several  feet  the  start  of  the  wretch,  but 
the  door  opened  into  the  room.  If  there  was  no  key 
in  the  lock,  he  could  wrench  the  door  out  of  her  hand 
ere  it  was  fairly  closed. 

Then  she  could  not  reach  the  hall  door  in  time.  If 
she  did,  might  there  not  be  a  bolt  on  it  that  she  could 
not  find  at  once? 

Would  it  be  better  to  fly  through  the  room  door  and 
make  for  the  hall  door  at  once?  Her  decision  was. 
reached  ere  her  hand  was  on  the  door.  It  was  reached 
while  the  imprecation  of  the  man  still  rang  in  her 
ear. 

Her  eye  had  caught  the  glisten  of  the  key  in  the 
lock,  and  the  door  had  swung  to  with  a  bang  almost  in 
the  very  face  of  the  wretch. 

But  with  an  oath  his  hand  was  on  the  knob  with 
her  own,  and  she  felt  it  pulled  with  a  savage  force 
that  at  another  time  she  could  not  have  withstood. 

At  that  moment,  however,  she  was  battling  for  her 
honor,  and  with  panting  breath  she  threw  all  her 
weight  on  the  pull  she  gave  the  door,  and  slight  as  it 
was  it  effected  its  purpose. 

The  door  was  snatched  from  his  hastily  taken  grasp 


Goldie's  Escape.  289 

and  closed.  Then  with  a  gasp  of  fear  lest  she  should 
fail,  Goldie  caught  the  key  and  gave  it  a  twist, 

The  bolt  shot  into  its  place,  the  door  was  locked. 

Goldie's  heart  leaped  to  her  throat,  and  she  crossed 
the  now  dark  haH  to  where  she  knew  the  door  was. 
Like  lightning  her  hand  flew  over  it  and  found  the 
big  key. 

It  was  easy  to  turn  that.  But  would"  the  door  then 
open?  She  tried  it,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  joy  of 
that  gust  of  fresh  air  that  swept  over  her  face  would 
make  her  swoon. 

The  door  was  open  and  she  was  free.  Free  for  the 
moment,  anyhow. 

Ah !  a  new  thought !  She  would  lock  that  door,  too. 
The  key  was  removed  from  the  lock,  reinserted  and 
turned.  It  was  taken  out  and  thrown  far  away.  That 
was  done  instinctively. 

Was  freedom  hers  yet  ?  Ah !  she  well  knew  that  it 
was  not.  She  was  ignorant  even  of  where  she  was. 

She  did  not  stop  to  study  that  out,  however ;  but 
with  the  speed  of  a  deer  sprang  down  the  steps  and 
fled  into  the  gray  light  of  morning. 

She  saw  woods  in  one  direction,  and  as  they  afforded 
the  nearest  shelter  from  observation,  she  sped  toward 
them.  As  she  reached  them  she  heard  a  crash  of 
glass  and  then  the  voice  of  one  of  the  men,  cursing1 
her  and  bidding  her  stop. 


290  Goldie's  Escape. 

She  did  not  even  look  around  to  ascertain  who  it 
was.  What  did  that  matter  now  ?  The  only  thing  was 
to  escape  from  them  all. 

But  now  she  realized  that  her  good  fortune  was  in 
danger  of  failing  her,  for  in  the  woods,  of  whose 
bounds  she  was  ignorant,  she  was  likely  tc  be  over- 
taken. 

Her  brain  by  this  time,  however,  seemed  to  have 
accustomed  itself  to  swift  action,  and  as  she  strained 
it  for  a  suggestion,  it  came. 

Why  not  hide  behind  one  of  the  thickets  of  under- 
brush near  the  edge  of  the  woods?  What  so  likely 
as  that  her  pursuer  would  dive  into  them,  in  the 
natural  belief  that  that  was  what  she  had  done? 

It  required  all  her  courage  to  refrain  from  fleeing, 
and  to  actually  let  the  man  overtake  her. 

But  she  did  it.  She  crouched  low  and  silently  be- 
hind some  witch-hazel  bushes,  and  hardly  breathed  as 
she  waited. 

From  where  she  was  she  could  not  see  him  approach, 
but  when  she  heard  the  swift  beat  of  his  feet  on 
the  sod  hardened  by  frost,  and  realized  how  swiftly 
he  was  running,  she  thanked  Heaven  that  she  had 
not  made  the  vain  attempt  to  run  away  from  him. 

He  had  ceased  to  cry  out  now,  and  was  devoting  all 
his  energies  to  outstripping  her  in  the  race.  He  entered 


Goldie's  Escape.  291 

the  woods  at  the  same  point  that  she  had,  and,  as 
she  had  hoped,  continued  his  way  through. 

She  listened  to  the  crashing  of  his  body  through 
the  dried  twigs,  and  then  with  beating  heart,  crept  to 
the  edge  of  the  woods  and  looked  toward  the  house. 

As  yet  the  other  men  had  not  emerged  from  the 
house,  which  was  still  indistinct  in  the  early  morning 
light. 

Like  a  ghost  she  glided  out  upon  the  lawn  and  sped 
across  it  to  where  the  further  line  of  trees  showed 
like  a  gray  bank. 

At  every  step  she  expected  to  hear  the  shout  of  the 
man,  as  he  returned  from  his  fruitless  pursuit  after 
her,  or  the  voice  of  one  of  the  other  two  from  the 
direction  of  the  house. 

But  Heaven  was  with  her  in  her  brave  struggle, 
and  she  reached  the  woods  in  safety  and  unseen. 

She  no  longer  thought  how  to  hide,  but  only  how 
to  get  as  far  as  possible  from  the  terrible  men  whose 
companionship  was  worse  than  death  to  her.  So  she 
tore  her  way  through  the  tangled  wood,  which  seemed 
of  interminable  extent,  and  never  stopped  for  fatigue 
or  the  fear  of  tearing  her  tender  flesh. 

She  remembered  the  danger  of  onejost  in  the  woods 
going  on  in  a  circle,  and  endeavored  to  keep  a  certain 
star  in  front  of  her  alLthe  time.  The  woods  was  so 
dense  that  it  was  not  easy  to  do  that,  however,  and 


292  Goldie's  Escape. 

• 

she  was  afraid  more  than  once  that  she  had  lost  hen 
particular  star. 

In  the  end,  however,  she  reached  a  rough  road,  andl 
though  she  knew  there  would  be  some  risk  of  being 
overtaken  there  by  her  pursuer,  she  followed  it  until 
she  was  ready  to  drop  from  exhaustion. 

Then  she  turned  into  the  woods  again  to  take  the 
rest  that  was  forced  upon  her  by  her  inability  to  drag1 
one  foot  after  the  other. 

She  did  not  permit  herself  a  long  rest,  however,  but 
started  on  again  in  a  few  minutes,  refreshed  by  even 
so  short  a  respite  from  exertion. 

And  thus  she  went  on  until  she  reached  a  more  f  res 
quently  traveled  road,  as  she  knew  by  its  being 
smoother  and  less  rutted. 

She  could  not  have  told  how  long  she  kept  on  this 
way,  but  the  sun  was  shining  brightly  when  at  last 
she  espied  a  cottage  standing  back  a  little  from  the 
road. 

She  might  not  have  had  the  courage  to  approach  it 
if  she  had  not  seen  a  young  woman  with  a  baby  in 
her  arms  come  to  the  door  to  look  about. 

That  decided  her,  and  she  entered  the  gate  and 
staggered  on  to  the  threshold,  where  she  sunk  ex- 
hausted in  a  swoon. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

DONALD    IN    DANGER. 

"Yes/'  Donald  said,  in  answer  to  the  words  of  Mil- 
dred, "we  will  talk  of  Goldie." 

He  ignored  the  reproach  or  the  sneer,  whichever  it 
might  be,  that  was  implied  in  Mildred's  words. 

"What  shall  we  say  of  her?"  she  asked.  "Shall  we 
say , how  beautiful  she  is,  and  how  much  you  love  her, 
though" she  is  not  your  wife?" 

"We  will  not  talk  of  that,  for  it  is  not  necessary/' 
he  answered.  "You  knew,  when  you  forced  the  hate- 
ful marriage  on  me,  that  I  loved  her,  and  not  you.  I 
came  to  discover,  if  I  could,  why  she  left  here." 

"Did  not  her  letter  to  you  say?" 

"Only  vaguely." 

"Her  letter  to  me  was  vague,  too.  It  seemed  to 
mean  that  she  hated  me  too  much  to  remain  under  my 
roof.  I  suppose,  like  you,  she  did  not  like  the  mar- 
riage." 

He  looked  keenly  at  her,  and  she  returned  his 
glance  coldly ;  he  could  learn  nothing  from  her  face. 

"Can  you  tell  me  where  she  has  gone?"  he  asked. 

"I  know  no  more  than  you ;  not  as  much,  it  may  be." 

"Was  there  no  clue  to  where  she  had  gone?"  he 
asked. 


294  Donald  in  Danger. 

"We  found  none.  It  may  be  that  no  one  here  was 
as  anxious  as  you  to  know,  or  it  would  have  been  dif- 
ferent." 

Her  tone  was  harsh  and  bitter;  it  seemed  as  if  she 
were  trying  to  make  him  angry.  She  did  not  succeed 
in  that,  but  there  was  an  indefinable  something  in  her 
manner  that  caused  the  lingering  suspicion  of  her  to 
come  to  life  again. 

"Mildred,"  he  said,  "something  tells  me  that  you 
are  not  as  ignorant  as  you  pretend." 

"It  is  a  pity,"  she  sneered,  "that  the  same  something 
does  not  tell  you  in  what  I  am  not  ignorant." 

"Will  you  let  me  go  to  her  room  to  see  what  there 
is  there  to  help  me  trace  her?"  he  asked  abruptly. 

"You  may  go,"  she  answered,  and  rang  the  bell 
for  a  servant. 

When  the  maid  came  she  bade  her  lead  Donald  to 
the  rooms  that  had  been  occupied  by  Goldie. 

"He  fancies  he  can  discover  some  trace  of  Mrs. 
Selden,"  she  said  coldly. 

"It  may  be  that  I  cannot,  Mildred,"  he  said  ear- 
nestly, "but  I  assure  you  that  I  shall  find  her  somehow. 
I  am  rich  enough  to  hire  every  detective  in  New  York 
if  need  be,  and  I  will  do  it  if  I  cannot  find  her." 

"It  is  a  pity,"  she  answered  with  curt  fierceness* 
"that  you  ever  let  her  go  out  of  your  sight." 


Donald  in  Danger.  295 

"Would  to  Heaven  I  never  had!"  he  murmured,  as 
he  left  the  room  to  follow  the  servant. 

On  the  way  upstairs  he  endeavored  to  learn  some- 
thing from  the  maid,  but  with  all  the  willingness  in 
the  world,  she  could  tell  him  nothing  that  bore  on 
Goldie's  sudden  disappearance. 

"This  is  very  far  from  the  other  occupied  rooms  of 
the  house,"  was  the  first  thing  he  said  when  the  apart- 
ments were  reached. 

"That  is  what  everybody  thought,"  was  the  an- 
swer. It  is  called  the  haunted  wing,  and  Mrs.  Sel- 
den's  maid  would  not  sleep  here  with  her  mistress." 

Donald  entered  the  rooms  and  looked  around  them. 

"They  have  been  cleaned  since  Mrs.  Selden  left 
them,"  he  said  quickly. 

"Oh,  yes,  sir;  they  were  cleaned  up  the  next  day. 
It  was  not  a  nice  task  for  the  woman  either,  though 
she  never  said  a  word  to  your  wife,  sir." 

He  stared  at  her. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked. 

"Oh!  the  rooms  were  clean  enough  already,  but 
there  was  some  acid  stuff  in  the  fireplace  where  the 
fire  had  been  that  burned  the  poor  woman's  fingers 
terribly.  I  suppose  it  must  have  been  something  Mrs. 
Selden  had  thrown  away." 

"You  do  not  know  what  it  was?"  he  demanded 
jquickly. 

,  '   ,  •    / -*  A 


296  Donald  in  Danger. 

"One  of  the  men  said  it  was — oh!  what  did  he  call 
it?  Yes,  I  remember — vitriol." 

Donald  caught  his  breath.  He  had  no  idea  of  the 
meaning  of  the  information  he  had  received,  but  it 
troubled  him. 

"Nothing  was  said  about  it  to  Mrs.  Irwin?"  he 
queried.  . 

"Nothing." 

,  It  was  useless  to  remain  in  the  apartments,  which 
had  been  so  sedulously  cleaned  by  order  of  Mildred, 
and  Donald  left  them,  with  vague  suspicions  in  his 
brain. 

Mildred  was  seated  in  front  of  the  fire  as  before, 
pretending  to  read  a  book.  She  let  it  fall  negligently 
when  Donald  returned. 

"Have  you  obtained  a  clue?"  she  asked  ironically. 

He  never  knew  what  prompted  his  reply.  No  doubt 
it  was  based  on  a  suspicion  that  he  could  never  have 
given  form  to. 

"Yes;  I  think  I  have." 

i 

She  started,  and  changed  color  ever  so  slightly.  He 
noted  it,  and  felt  a  fierce  desire  to  catch  her  by  the 
white  throat  and  compel  her  to  a  confession  which  he 
did  not  doubj:  she  could  make. 

"Indeed  ?"  she  murmured,  recovering  quickly,  " 
I  ask  the  nature  of  it?" 


Donald  in  Danger.  297 

He  strode  nearer  to  her  and  looked  sternly  into  her 
eyes. 

"Vitriol  was  the  nature  of  it !"  he  said. 

Her  face  changed,  and  she  fell  back  a  pace.  Her 
first  thought  was  that  he  had  really  discovered  in  some 
way  what  had  taken  place  in  the  chamber  that  night. 

Her  courage  almost  failed  her,  until  she  remembered 
how  the  vitriol  had  been  poured  into  the  fireplace. 

"Vitriol !"  she  repeated.  "And  what  has  that  to  do 
with  her  departure  from  here?" 

"You  know  that  better  than  I,  Mildred,"  he  said 
harshly.  "Something  tells  me  that  it  is  a  clue.  1 
warn  you  that  I  shall  employ  the  best  detectives  in  the 
country  to  find  her,  and  if  there  is  anything  in  your 
connection  with  this  matter  that  will  not  bear  investi- 
gation, I  warn  you  to  beware." 

She  steadied  herself  under  his  eye,  though  her  brain) 
was  in  a  turmoil,  and  answered  coldly: 

"You  are  in  a  strange  mood  to-night.  I  suppose, 
however,  you  are  always  that  way  nowadays.  What 

should  there  be  in  my  connection  with Pshaw  f 

you  are  absurd!" 

:    She  turned  away  and  resumed  the  seat  she  had  risen 

from  during  the  conversation. 

He  looked  at  her  steadily  for  a  moment,  and  said : 

"It  will  be  useless  for  me  to  remain  here  longer. 
You  will  not  help  me  if  you  can.  Good  night !" 


298  Donald  in  Danger. 

"Will  you  not  stay  to  supper  ?"  she  said,  flashing 
a  singular  look  at  him.  "It  will  seem  strange  if  you 
go  away  without  that  little  formality/' 

"No,"  he  replied,  "I  could  not  eat  with  you." 

Her  eyes  flamed  under  their  long  lashes,  and  her 
heart  seemed  to  contract  with  anger  and  rage,  but  she 
pleaded  in  a  low  tone : 

"I  will  not  ask  you  to  eat  with  me.  For  the  sake 
of  the  servants,  that  they  may  not  know  how  you  hate 
me,  eat  under  my  roof.  I  will  not  eat  with  you." 

He  hesitated,  and  she  saw  her  advantage. 

"It  is  a  small  thing  to  ask,  Donald.  If  you  will 
stay  and  eat  for  appearance  sake,  I  promise  you  I 
will  tell  you  some  things  about  Goldie  that  I  wpuld  not 
Otherwise  tell.  Won't  you  stay  for  her  sake,  Donald?" 

He  gazed  sternly  at  her. 

"I  do  not  know  your  motive  in  urging  me  to  re- 
main, but  I  will,  and  will  demand  of  you  the  fulfill* 
ment  of  your  promise." 

A  strange  smile  flitted  over  her  lips  at  his  response, 
and  she  rose,  saying; 

"I  will  go  see  that  you  are  properly  served." 

But  when  she  was  out  of  his  sight  and  hearing  her 
face  became  convulsed  with  a  devilish  passion  and  she 
hissed : 

"Properly  served  indeed!  It  will  be  the  last  meal 
you  will  ever  take,  Donald  Irwin!" 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII.  , 

FOILED    BY   A    WOMAN'S    WIT. 

Goldie  had  made  the  last  effort  of  which  she  was 
capable  when  she  sank  fainting  at  the  door  of  the 
little  cottage. 

The  young  woma#  who  had  stood  at  the  door, 
watching  her  approach  with  wonder,  cried  out  in  dis- 
may to  see  her  fall  helpless  at  her  feet.  She  hurriedly 
ran  with  the  baby  and  deposited  it  in  its  crib  in  an 
inner  room. 

Returning  quickly  to  where  Goldie  lay,  she  lifted 
her  in  her  strong  arms  and  carried  her  into  the  cottage, 
murmuring  words  of  commiseration.  And  when  she 
placed  her  burden  on  a  couch  that  stood  in  the  room, 
she  looked  down  at  her  and  exclaimed  in  tones  of  deep 
admiration : 

"How  beautiful  she  is!  And  how  young  to  be  a 
widow !" 

For  Goldie's  mourning  proclaimed  her  that,  and 
the  wedding  ring  on  her  finger  told  the  good  woman 
that  her  guess  was  not  wrong. 

"Poor  dear!"  the  woman  went  on  pityingly;  "she 
looks  as  if  she  had  known  a  great  deal  of  unhappi- 
iness." 

She  did  not  stand  idle,  however,  as  she  made  these 


300  Foiled  by  a  Woman's  Wit. 

comments,  but  worked  over  Goldie  to  bring  her  from 
her  swoon. 

But  the  poor  girl  had  borne  all  she  could  without 
feeling  the  effects  of  the  strain,  and  the  swoon  only 
gave  way  to  a  stupor,  which  so  frightened  the  woman 
that  she  ran  to  the  back  door  of  the  cottage  and  cried 
in  troubled  tones : 

"William,  William,  come  here  quickly !" 

A  pleasant-faced,  stalwart  young  man  threw  down 
the  axe  he  had  been  wielding  in  the  task  of  felling  a 
tree  on  the  outskirts  of  the  garden  and  ran  anxiously 
to  the  house. 

"What  is  it,  Kitty?"  he  demanded  breathlessly. 

"See!"  she  replied,  pulling. him  into  the  room  where 
Goldie  lay.  "This  poor  lady  came  to  the  door  and 
fell  fainting  there.  I  brought  her  in  and  revived  her, 
only  to  find  that  she  was  ill  like  this.  What  shall  we 
do?" 

"Do?"  he  cried  earnestly.  "Why,  I  will  go  for  the 
doctor  at  once.  What  a  sweet  face  she  has!" 

He  threw  on  his  coat  as  he  spoke,  and  was  soon 
hastening  down  the  road  in  the  direction  of  a  little 
village,  whose  church  spires  could  be  seen  over  the 
tops  of  the  leafless  trees. 

He  had  not  gone  far  on  his  errand  of  mercy  ere  he 
heard  the  rattle  of  a  carriage  behind  him. 

"Perhaps  I  can  get  a  ride  to  the  village,"  hcmtit- 


Foiled  by  a  Woman's  Wit.  301 

tered  as  he  turned  and  saw  that  the  vehicle  was  a 
buggy,  in  which  there  was  only  one  person. 

The  carriage  was  going  very  rapidly,  however,  and 
the  driver  seemed  fully  occupied  in  gazing  earnestly 
about  him. 

He  disregarded  the  signs  made  him  by  William,  and 
was  about  to  pass  on,  when  suddenly  he  pulled  up  as  if 
just  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  other. 

While  he  was  reining  in  his  horse,  William  was  en- 
gaged in  studying  his  face  and  general  appearance, 
and  w#s  not  very  pleasingly  impressed. 

The  face  was  a  handsome  one  enough,  but  bore 
every  mark  of  dissipation  and  brutality,  and  the  cloth- 
ing he  wore  was  far  from  such  as  a  self-respecting 
rnan  would  wish  to  wear. 

"Beg  pardon!"  he  said  gruffly,  "but  have  you  seen 
anything  of  a  young  lady  coming  along  this  way?" 

William  started,  hesitated,  and  then  asked : 

"What  sort  of  looking  lady?" 

The  man  in  the  carriage,  who  was  no  other  than 
the  ruffian,  Harry,  saw  by  William's  manner  that  he 
had  something  to  communicate  concerning  some  lady, 
and  he  did  not  doubt  that  it  was  Goldie. 

His  eyes  snapped,  and  it  instantly  flashed  through 
his  ready  brain  that  the  best  way  to  overcome  the  hesi- 
tation which  he  noticed  was  to  ingratiate  himself  with 
this  stalwart  stranger. 


302  Foiled  by  a  Woman's  Wit. 

"If -you  are  going  my  way,"  he  said,  with  a  polite- 
ness which  sat  oddly  on  him,  "get  in  and  ride.  I  can 
tell  you  about  the  lady  as  we  go." 

The  plan  exactly  suited  William,  who  had  no  other 
reason  for  being  suspicious  than  the  rough  appearance 
of  the  stranger.  So  he  stepped  into  the  carriage,  and! 
Harry  touched  the  horse  with  the  whip  to  start  him 
up  again. 

"The  truth  of  the  matter  is,"  he  began,  with  a  cun- 
ning that  had  stood  him  in  stead  in  many  a  scrape, 
"that  I  am  looking  for  my  sister,  who  has  left  her 
home.  I  see  you  look  wonderingly  at  my  rough  appear- 
ance. You  must  not  judge  me  by  that,  nor  must  you 
judge  her.  These  garments  are  only  a  disguise 
adopted  for  a  proper  purpose." 

He  used  the  language  of  a  gentleman,  and  his  man- 
ner was  that  of  one  who  moved  in  good  society ;  as  in- 
deed had  once  been  the  case.  William  was  deceived 
very  readily. 

"What  does  your  sister  look  like?"  he  asked. 

"I  see  from  your  manner  that  you  have  met  a  stran- 
ger," Harry  said  quickly.  "I  pray  Heaven  it  is  my 
poor  sister.  Tell  me!  have  you  met  a  strange  young 
lady?" 

"I  have,  sir/? 

"Was  she  young — in  the  very  bloom  of  girlhood— -» 
and  yet  dressed  in  the  garb  of  a  widow?  Was  she 


Foiled  by  a  Woman's  Wit.  303 

beautiful  as  the  morning,  with  golden  hair,  and  eyes  \ 
the  color  of  wild  violets?    Tell  me!" 

He  spoke  earnestly  and  feelingly,  and  William  re- 
plied without  hesitation  to  such  an  accurate  description 
of  the  stranger  who  lay  ill  in  his  cottage. 

"I  have  met  such  a  young  lady,"  he  replied;  "and,  in 
fact,  it  is  on  her  account  that  I  am  now  on  my  way 
to  the  village." 

"On  her  account !  What  do  you  mean,  my  dear 
sir?" 

"I  mean  that  she  lies  ill  in  my  cottage — the  one  you 
just  passed— $nd  that  I  am  now  on  my  way  for  a 
physician." 

The  cry  of  joy  and  wild  exultation  that  rose  to  the 
lips  of  the  scoundrel  would  have  betrayed  more  than 
brotherly  interest,  had  it  escaped  him.  He  choked 
it  back  in  time,  and  hid  his  eyes,  to  conceal  the  ex- 
pression that  leaped  into  them. 

"Ill !"  he  murmured.  "I  feared  as  much.  I  beg  you 
to  tell  me  how  ill  she  is." 

"My  wife  picked  her  up,  unconscious,  and  took  her 
into  the  cottage.  She  has  recovered  consciousness,  but 
lies  like  one  in  a  profound  stupor." 

It  seemed  as  if  fortune  was  with  the  wretch. 

"Then  she  has  not  been  able  to  tell  you  of  the  calam- 
ity that  drove  her  from  her  happy  home  ?"  he  queried, 
and  waited  eagerly  for  the  response. 


304  Foiled  by  a  Woman's  Wit. 

"She  has  not  uttered  one  word  since  her  eyes 
opened,  nor  befoue.  We  are  ignorant  of  her  name, 
even/' 

"Poor  child!"  murmured  Harry  with  pretended  so- 
licitude. "I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I  will  take 
you  to  the  village  street,  and  then  turn  back  to  cheer 
her  by  my  presence  if  she  should  recover  consciousness. 
You  can  return  with  the  physician." 

Then,  without  waiting  for  a  word  of  remonstrance 
or  of  suggestion  from  William,  he  struck  his  horse 
with  the  whip  and  drove  rapidly  into  the  vallage, 
where  with  many  meaningless  words  he  put  him  down. 

"Come  as  quickly  as  you  can,"  he  cried,  as  he 
turned  around  and  drove  away  with  all  the  speed  his 
horse  was  capable  of. 

He  had  calculated  the  chances  of  a  scheme  that  had 
entered  his  brain,  and  was  determined  to  make  an 
effort  to  carry  it  out. 

"I  shall  have  ten  minutes'  start  of  them  at  least,"  he 
muttered,  as  he  urged  his  horse  on  to  increased  speed. 
"Much  can  be  done  in  that  time." 

He  drew  up  at  the  gate  of  the  cottage  yard,  and 
leaped  out  of  the  carriage  almost  before  the  wheels 
had  ceased  to  turn.  He  knew  the  horse  would  stand 
without  being  tied,  and  therefore  walked  swiftly  up 
the  path  to  the  cottage. 

William's  wife  had  heard  the  rattle  of  wheels,  and 


Foiled  by  a  Woman's  Wit.  305 

had  hurried  to  the  window  to  see  if  it  was  possible  that 
her  husband  had  returned  so  soon. 

She  was  not  prepossessed  by  the  appearance  of  her 
visitor,  but  opened  the  door  boldly  and  asked  him  what 
he  sought. 

He  took  off  his  battered  hat  politely,  and  with  a 
smile  of  easy  confidence,  answered : 

"I  took  your  husband  to  the  village  to  get  a  physi- 
cian for  my  sister.  Poor  girl!  how  is  she  now?" 

"Your  sister!"  repeated  Kitty  Morton,  looking  dis- 
trustfully at  him. 

"Don't  wonder  at  the  difference  of  our  appearance," 
he  said  with  a  smile.  "I  will  explain  that  to  you.  It  is 
a  part  of  her  sad  story.  I  fear  she  has  not  been  able 
to  communicate  it  to  you." 

He  pushed  himself  past  her  with  an  appearance  of 
earnestness  that  robbed  his  action  of  rudeness,  and 
stood  looing  at  poor  Goldie's  pale,  passive  face. 

But  Mrs.  Morton,  woman-like,  was  more  suspicious 
than  her  husband,  and  did  not  lose  her  distrust  of  the 
wretch  because  of  his  glib  words  and  assured  manner. 

She  did  not  guess  at  his  intentions,  but  was  sturdily 
prepared  to  see  that  no  harm  came  to  the  beautiful 
stranger  who  had  fallen  at  her  doorstep. 

"My  darling  sister!"  he  cried  in  well-simulated  tones 
of  distress,  "how  it  grieves  me  to  see  you  in  this 


306  Foiled  by  a  Woman's  Wit. 

condition  again.  Ah,  madam,  it  is  not  the  first  time 
the  poor  child  has  been  thus. 

"If  I  had  known  she  was  like  this  I  might  have 
saved  your  husband  his  journey  to  the  village.  Her 
mother  is  the  only  one  who  can  rouse  her  from  this 
condition.  She  must  go  home  at  once." 

He  moved  to  Goldie's  side  and  had  bent  over  her 
to  take  her  in  his  arms,  when  Kitty  Morton  caught  him 
by  the  arm,  and  with  a  strength  that  gave  him  a  new 
respect  for  her,  pulled  him  away. 

"Are  you  out  of  your  senses?"  she  cried  vehe- 
mently. "It  would  kill  her  to  take  her  away  in  that 
condition.  You  shall  not  touch  her  until  the  doctor 
has  given  permission," 

The  fellow  shut  his  teeth  together,  and  had  he 
dared  take  the  risk  would  there  and  then  have  felled 
her  to  the  floor  to  get  her  out  of  his  way. 

Force,  however,  was  totally  out  of  the  question.  He 
must  succeed  by  cajolery  if  at  all,  and  every  moment 
was  precious. 

"My  dear  lady,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "you  have  little 
idea  of  what  you  are  doing.  The  fact  is  that  her 
very  life  may  be  at  stake.  .  For  her  own  sake  she 
should  be  taken  home  at  once." 

Siurdy  Kitty  Morton  closed  her  lips  firmly,  and  an- 
swered : 

'There  can  be  no  such  great  haste.     The  doctoc 


Foiled  by  a  Woman's  Wit.  307 

will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes.  He  will  be  the  best 
judge/' 

The  bcoundrel's  eyes  flashed.  MighUit  be  possible 
to  use  violence  and  escape? 

Strong  and  self-reliant  as  Kitty  was,  she  was  yet  but 
a  woman,  while  he  was  a  powerful  man. 

He  glided  to  the  door  and  threw  it  open.  If  the 
doctor's  carriage  was  in  sight  force  was  out  of  the 
question;  but  if  there  was  no  sign  of  it,  why 

He  looked  down  the  road,  and  a  muttered  curse  felj 
from  his  lips.  The  carriage  was  speeding  swiftly 
toward  the  cottage. 

Cunning  only  remained  to  him.  He  would  wait  and 
find  the  means  of  getting  her  in  his  hands  yet. 


fe-.-- 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

^ 

"CURSES  COME  HOME  TO  ROOST." 

There  was  a  feeling  in  the  heart  of  Mildred  that  the 
beginning  of  the  end  had  come  at  last.  She  knew 
that  she  loved  Donald,  and  yet  there  was  a  stronger 
feeling  impelling  her  to  take  his  life. 

Something  told  her  that  as  long  as  both  he  andi 
Goldie  lived,  there  was  danger  that  they  would  come 
together. 

If  there  had  been  time,  she  might  have  hoped  to 
get  Goldie  in  her  power  again  so  that  she  might  de- 
stroy her  beauty,  but  the  threat  of  Donald  to  employ 
the  best  detectives  made  her  fear  that  Goldie  would 
be  found. 

Not  only  that,  but  if  she  were  discovered  now  it 
would  be  in  her  power  to  direct  such  attention  to  her, 
Mildrejd,  that  the  murder  of  her  father  might  be  dis- 
covered. And  if  that  were  to  come  to  light,  with  the 
guilt  of  it  fastened  on  h$r,  the  law  would  interpose 
to  take  her  out  of  Goldie's  way. 

"I  see  how  it  all  would  work,"  she  muttered.  "I 
should  be  executed,  and  those  two  would  come  to- 
gether and  be  happy.  His  death  rather!  Yes,  hfe  shall 
die!" 

With  this  terrible  determination  in  her  heart,  she 


"  Curses  Come  Home  to  Roost."       309 

hurried  to  her  rooms,  and  there  brought  out  the  casket 
of  poisons,  which  she  had  taken  with  her  from  the 
city.  She  chpse  the  same  vial  that  had  been  used  by 
her  before,  but  she  took  not  that  alone. 

"I  will  combine  it  with  this,"  she  muttered.  "Then 
he  will  have  time  to  go  from  here  ere  he  dies !" 

Her  hand  shook  as  she  took  out  the  vials  of  poison, 
but  she  did  not  relent. 

She  now  glided  down  into  the  dining  room,  and 
gave  orders  to  the  maid  who  came  at  her  summons 
to  prepare  a  hasty  supper  for  Donald. 

When  the  maid  went  out,  she  poured  out  a  glass  of 
sherry,  and  into  it  dropped  a  small  quantity  of  the 
poison  from  each  vial. 

"Why  does  he  love  her?"  she  hissed  fiercely. 

"If  he  had  loved  me,  all  would  have  been  different/' 

Meanwhile  something  had  occurred  of  which  she 

\  Was  not  yet  aware,  but  which  concerned  her  closely. 

i 

A  few  moments  after  departing  from  the  sitting" 
room  one  of  the  maids  entered  looking  for  her. 

"Did  you  wish  to  see  Mrs.  Irwin?"  Donald  asked. 

"Yes,  sir,  a  gentleman  is  asking  for  her." 

Donald  told  the  girl  that  Mildred  had  gone  to -pre- 
pare him  some  supper,  and  she  left  him  to  seek  for  her 
mistress. 
. ,  Owing  to  the  fact  that  Mildred  had  first  gone  to  her 


310        "  Curses  Come  Home  to  Roost.'7 

room,  the  girl  missed  her  at  first,  but  learned  from  an- 
other maid  that  she  was  in  the  dining  room. 

Fearing  that  the  visitor  would  become  impatient  of 
the  long  delay,  the  girl  went  to  him  and  told  him  that 
her  mistress  was  engaged  in  the  dining  room,  where 
she  would  go  at  once  to  find  her. 

"I  will  go  with  you,"  he  said;  and  when  the  girl 
looked  at  him  in  amazement,  he  added  confidently : 

"It  will  be  all  right." 

So  she  led  him  along  the  hall  into  the  great  dining 
room,  where  Mildred,  just  finished  putting  away  her 
poison  vials,  stood  with  pale  face  and  compressed  lips. 

"A  gentleman,  Mrs.  Irwin !"  the  maid  said. 

Mildred  looked  up  with  a  wild  start,  and  at  sight 
of  the  visitor's  face,  gasped : 

"You?" 

It  was  the  scoundrel,  Harry.  He  had  changed  his 
ruffianly  clothes  iof  good  ones  in  the  height  of  the. 
fashion,  and  to  a  casual  observer  would  have  passed 
for  a  gentleman. 

He  waited  for  the  girl  to  leave  the  room,  and  then 
stepped  hastily  to  the  side  of  the  table  opposite  Mil- 
dred. 

"Yes,  it  is  I,"  he  said  quickly. 

"It  is  something  about  her — Goldie,"  she  breathed. 
"What  is  it?" 

""She  has  escaped  from  me,  and  I  need  your  help." 


"  Curses  Come  Home  to  Roost."       311 

"Escaped!  fool!  how  came  you  to  let  her?" 

"Not  on  purpose,  you  may  be  sure.  But  never 
minu  the  details.  Are  you  interested  enough  to  help 
me  get  her  back  in  my  power?" 

"You  know  I  am.  If  she  should  tell  what  she 
knows  I  would  be  ruined." 

"Well,  you  needn't  worry  yet.  She  has  been  in  a 
condition  that  would  prevent  her  saying  a  word.  But 
the  doctor  says  she  will  recover  speech  at  any  time 
within  twenty- four  hours." 

"Where  is  she?" 

"In  a  little  cottage,  not  far  from  where  I  took  her/' 

"And  what  do  you  wish  me  to  do?" 

"I  wish  you  to  go  there  and  represent  yourself  as 
her  friend.  Say  who  you  are,  and  when  you  get  the 
chance  give  her  this  powder.  It  will  make  her  pliant 
when  she  recovers  consciousness ;  and  then  we  can  get 
her  into  our  power  again." 

"And  why  do  you  need  me?"  she  asked.  "Why  not 
do  this  yourself  ?" 

"Because  they  suspect  me  for  some  reason,  and  will 
not  let  me  be  alone  with  her." 

A  singular  smile  flitted  over  Mildred's  dark  face. 
It  had  occurred  to  her  that  once  with  the  sick  girl,  she 
could  give  her  a  few  drops  of  her  poison,  and  so  end 
her  life. 

"I  will  do  it,"  she  said.     "To-morrow  morning  you 


312        "Curses  Come  Home  to  Roost." 

shall  take  me  to  her.    And  you  must  leave  me  now.     I 
have  company  I  must  attend  to." 

The  wretch  nodded  his  head  in  acquiescence  and 
turned  toward  the  door. 

A  sharp  exclamation  from  his  lips  made  Mildred! 
look  in  that  direction. 

^Donald  stood  in  the  doorway,  such  an  expression  on 
his  face  as  left  her  in  no  doubt  of  the  truth. 

He  had  heard,  if  not  all,  at  least  enough  to  let  him 
know  what  plot  it  was  that  she  had  been  concocting. 

"Your  husband!"  the  man  murmured,  at  the  same 
time  looking  furtively  around  for  some  avenue  of  es- 
cape. 

"Do  not  stir  a  step!"  came  sternly  from  the  lips  of 
Donald,  and  as  he  spoke  he  leveled  a  revolver  at  th( 
head  of  the  other. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  Mildred  cried  with  a  vair 
attempt  at  braving  it  out. 

"It  means  that  by  the  merest  accident  I  have  dis- 
covered enough  to  let  me  know  that  Goldie  has  been 
the  victim  of  a  foul  plot,  in  which  this  scoundrel  is 
mixed  up.  It  means  that  I  shall  hand  you  both  over 
to  the  law  to  be  dealt  with  without  mercy." 

The  man  cowered,  showing  how  poor  a  spirit  his 
was  when  real'  danger  confronted  him. 

"Look  here,"  he  cried,  "I  will  tell  you  everything  if 
you  willlet  up  on.me.  No  harm  has* come  to  the  lady." 


"Curses  Come  Home  to  Roost."        313 

"The  law !"  cried  Mildred,  frightened  by  the  thought 
of  what  might  happen  if  ever  she  fell  into  the  clutches 
of  the  law. 

"Yes,  vile  woman,"  was  the  stern  response,  "the 
Jaw  shall  deal  with  you  as  you  deserve." 

She  staggered  back  and  caught  the  table  for  sup- 
port. 

For  a  moment  neither  of  the  men  saw  that  she  had 
in  fact  lost  consciousness.  But  as  her  hold  upon  the 
table  relaxed  and  she  was  about  to  sink  to  the  floor, 
her  companion  in  crime  jumped  to  her  side  and  caught 
her  in  his  arms. 

His  first  thought  was  to  throw  water  in  her  face; 
but  a  swift  glance  at  the  table  showed  him  a  glass  of 
wine  poured  out,  and  he  caught  it  up  and  poured  its 
contents  down  her  throat. 

Donald  strode  to  her  side  and  took  her  from  tKe 
other,  who  relinquished  her  willingly  enough,  saying : 

"I  will  go  bring  a  servant." 

"You  will  leave  this  room  at  your  peril!"  Donald 
answered  sternly.  "I  can  ring  for  a  servant." 

He  did  so  as  he  spoke,  and  when  a  maid  came  he 
gave  her  no  time  for  comment,  but  said : 

"Your  mistress  has  swooned.  We  have  given  her  a 
glass  of  wine  that  stood  on  the  table.  Attend  to  her, 
and,  if  necessary,  have  her  taken,fo  her  room." 


'Yes,   sir/ 


314        "  Curses  Come  Home  to  Roost. n 

"I  shall  not  remain  until  she  recovers,  but  will  go 
away  on  important  business  at  once.  Come,  sir/' 

His  tone 'was  curt  and  threatening,  and  the  wretch 
did  not  hesitate  to  obey  him  at  once,  though  all  the 
while  he  was  pondering  hbw  he  could  escape  from  one 
who  could  hand  him  over  to  justice. 

"You  will  take  me  at  once  to  where  your  victim 
lies/'  Donald  said  in  his  implacable  way.  "And  if 
you  try  to  escape  from  me  I  will  shoot  you  as  I  would 
a  dog!" 

"I'm  not  going  to  try  to  escape/'  the  man  said, 
sullenly. 

Some  minutes  were  consumed  in  getting  their  coats 
and  hats,  and  then  Donald,  suddenly  remembering  that 
he  had  sent  his  conveyance  away,  was  about  to  order 
a  carriage  from  the  stable,  when  Harry  exclaimed 
with  an  eagerness  he  had  some  difficulty  in  repressing : 

"I  have  a  buggy  at  the  door.  It  is  at  your  service. 
I  can  take  you  in  it  right  to  the  door  of  the  cottage/' 

Donald  looked  sternly  at  him. 

"Perhaps  your  offer  covers  some  device;  but  never 
Blind!  the  risk  of  treachery  is  all  yours/' 

"I  mean  you  no  treachery/'  he  answered,  in  the 
Sullen  way  that  had  come  upon  him, 

"Come,  then!" 


CHAPTER  XL. 

HAPPINESS   AT    LAST. 

The  stupor  into  which  Mildred  had  fallen  was  so 
prolonged,  that  after  fifteen  minutes  of  unavailing 
effort  to  revive  her,  the  housekeeper  sent  for  a 
physician. 

It  was  half  an  hour  when  the  doctor  came,  and  it 
was  some  minutes  ere  the  strenuous  measures  adopted 
by  him  had  any  result. 

Then  Mildred  opened  her  eyes  in  a  dazed  way  and 
looked  about  her,  as  if  unconscious  of  the  lapse  of 
time  since  she  swooned. 

"Where — where  is  he  ?"  was  her  first  question,  as 
she  strove  to  rise  in  the  bed. 

"Your  husband,  ma'am,  has  been  gone  half  an  hour 
at  least,"  was  the  response  that  greeted  her. 

"Do  you  mean  that  I  have  been  ill  that  long?"  she 
demanded  weakly,  her  black  eyes  fixed  on  the  girl's 
face. 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

Mildred  wondered  what  it  was  that  made  her  feel  so 
languid  and  powerless  to  move. 

"What  happened?"  she  demanded;  and  then,  with 
a  sudden  recollection,  cried  eagerly:  "Mv  husband  I 
Did  he  not  eat  the  supper  that  was  prepare:!  for  him?" 


316  JHappiness  at  Last. 

"No,  ma'am.  He  went  away  at  once  with  the 
gentleman  who  was  here." 

"He — he  did  not  even  drink  the  glass  of  wine  I — I 
poured  out  for  him?"  she  demanded. 

"Oh,  no,  ma'am.  That  was  given  to  you,  when  you 
swooned." 

The  girl  never  forgot  the  awful  look  that  shot  into 
the  eyes  of  her  mistress  at  those  terrible  words. 

"It  was  given  to  me!  Oh,  my  God!"  she  screamed, 
trying  vainly  to  rise  in  bed.  "Did — did  he  give  it  to 
me?" 

"I  think  not.  I  think  it  was  the  other  gentleman: 
but  L  don't  know." 

"How — how  long  ago  was  it?"  Mildred  panted,  the 
beads  of  cold  perspiration  rolling  from  her  forehead. 

"More  than  half  an  hour." 

"Too  late! — oh,  Heaven  be  merciful — too  late!" 
she  wailed.  "Doctor,  there  was  poison  in  that  wine. 
I  put  it  there  for  him  to  drink,  because  he  would  not 
1  love  me.  Doctor,  I  am  dying!" 

"Tell  me  the  poison!"  murmured  the  horrjfied  phy- 
sician. "There  may  be  an  antidote." 

"There  is  none.  Oh,  I  am  dying  as  my  poor  father 
died  from  the  same  poison.  Papa,  papa — forgive  me! 
Heaven  have  mercy!  They  will  be  happy  and  I  shall 
dwell  in  eternal  torment.  Oh,  Heaven,  have  mercy Jr 


Happiness  at  Last.  317 

For  some  minutes  after  leaving  the  house  Donald 
addressed  no  word  to  his  companion ;  but  presently  • 
he  said  sternly : 

"I  owe  you  no  mercy;  but  if  you  will  tell  me  truly 
where  Mrs.  Selden  is,  and  how  you  came  to  be  engage^ 
in  this  nefarious  enterprise,  I  will  let  you  go  free." 

The  wretch  did  not  believe  Donald,  judging  him 
by  his  own  base  nature ;  but  he  saw  no  reason  now  for 
concealing  the  part  Mildred  had  played,  nor  of  endeav- 
oring to  conceal  the  present  whereabouts  of  Goldie. 

He,  therefore,  told  Donald  all  that  he  knew  of  Mil- 
dred's acts  and  intentions,  and  froze  the  blood  of  his 
listener  by  a  faithful  description  of  the  terrible  scene 
in  Goldie's  apartments  when  Mildred  was  bent  on  de- 
stroying  her  beauty  with  vitriol. 

He  also  described  to  Donald  where  the  cottage  was 
in  which  Goldie  lay  ill,  so  that  there  could  be  no 
difficulty  in  finding  it. 

If  he  had  been  more  honorable  he  would  have  be- 
lieved the  words  of  Donald,  but  it  was  impossible  for 
him  to  imagine  that  the  latter  would  forgive  him  and  ( 
let  him  go  free.  \ 

He  consequently  talked  on  and  on,  but  watched  all 
the  while  through  the  darkness  of  the  way  for  an 
opportunity  to  leap  suddenly  from  the  carriage  and 
escape. 


318  Happiness  at  Last 

He  could  not  see  just  where  he  would  alight  whea 
he  leaped,  but  he  was  determined  to  take  the  chance. 

So  as  he  talked  he  loosened  the  robe  that  was  folded 
over  his  limbs,  and  suddenly  threw  it  off  and  leaped 
out. 

There  was  a  crashing  of  underbrush,  a  wild  cry  and 
then  silence. 

And,  although  Donald  drew  up  at  once  and  called  to 
his  late  companion,  there  was  no  response. 

"The  foolish  wretch!"  murmured  Donald,  under 
his  breath ;  "he  might  have  trusted  me.  Now  he  may 
find  his  way  on  foot." 

And  he  never  knew  that  the  scoundrel  had  that 
hour  met  a  deserved  fate  by  leaping  from  the  carriage 
over  the  very  edge  of  a  precipice,  which  skirted  the 
road. 

He  never  knew  by  what  a  terrible  and  strange  coin- 
cidence the  two  enemies  of  Goldie  had  gone  out  of  life 
together. 

He  did  learn  afterward  of,  the  tragic  and  awful  end 
of  the  woman  who  bore  his  name,  but  it  was  a  knowl- 
edge which  he  ever  kept  sedulously  from  Goldie. 

That  night  he  pursued  his  journey  toward  his  dar- 
ling untroubled  by  any  of  the  evil  happenings  which 
were  to  make  his  life  in  the  future  peaceful  and  happy. 

He  reached  the  cottage  shortly  after  midnight,  and 
war-  received  at  first  with  doubt  and  suspicion.  But, 


Happiness  at  Last.  319 

when  he  told  enough  of  Goldie's  story  to  enable  her 
kind  friends  to  understand,  he  was  welcomed  cordially. 

His  horse  was  taken  to  the  little  stable  that  belonged 
to  the  cottage,  and  he  was  given  a  comfortable  chair 
in  the  same  room  with  Goldie  so  that  he  might  rest 
and  watch  at  the  same  time. 

"The  doctor  is  sure  she  will  recover  consciousness 
by  morning/'  kind  Kitty  Morton  said  to  Donald. 

So  he  sat  in  the  easy-chair  and  found  more  peaceful- 
ness  than  had  come  to  him  in  many  days. 

He  did  not  know  why  he  felt  so  calm  and  undis* 
turbed;  but  afterward  when  he  knew  that  Mildred  had 
passed  away  with  her  sins  on  her  soul,  he  said  his 
peace  was  from  Heaven  to  let  him  know  that  Goldie 
would  be  his  in  time. 

The  morning  was  far  advanced  when  Goldie  opened 
her  eyes  to  recognize  what  was  about  her;  and  the 
first  face  she  saw  was  that  of  Donald. 

A  cry  of  joy  broke  from  her  lips,  and  she  murmured 
eagerly : 

"Oh,  Donald,  I  am  so  glad!" 

Knowing  her  terrible  experience  he  understood  her 
cry  of  joy. 

He  took  the  little  hand  in  his  and  pressed  his  lips 
to  it,  murmuring: 

<fl  kr?™.v  everything,  Goldie.    You  are  safe  now,  and 


32O  Happiness  at  Last. 

ever  shall  be.  And  something  tells  me  that  there  is 
happiness  awaiting  us  both  in  this  world," 

It  was  not  right  away  that  they  knew  that  freedom 
had  come  to  them  by  the  death  of  Mildred;  for  it  was 
not  at  once  that  he  could  be  found  by  the  messengers 
sent  after  him. 

But  he  was  found  in  time  to  be  present  when  his 
erring  wife  was  buried;  $md  when  her  awful  story  was 
told  to  him,  he  paid  large  sums  of  money  to  those  who 
knew  it,  to  induce  them  to  forever  keep  it  a  profound 
secret  from  the  world. 

He  and  Goldie  were  not  wedded  at  once,  but  waited 
ta  year  ere  they  were  joined  together  before  the  altar, 
as  both  w£re  already  certain  they  had  long  since  been 
united  in  the  sight  of  Heaven. 

Indeed  Goldie  always  insisted  that  they  had  been  in- 
tended for  ;each  other  from  the  moment  of  birth;  for 
she  could  not  otherwise  comprehend  why  they  should 
have  fallen  in  love  so  completely  at  first  sight. 

THE   END. 

No.  1092  of  the  NEW  EAGLE  SERIES,,  entitled  "What 
Was  She  to  Him?"  by  Mrs.  Alex.  McVeigh  Miller,  is 
an  absorbing  story  of  love,  hate,  jealousy,  and  intrigue. 
It  is  intensely  interesting  and  holds  the  reader's  attention 
throughout. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
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Ilfflfl) 


APR  -  5  1956  LU 


LD  21-100m-7 


YB  74547 


970374 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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